


Bridge Over Troubled Water

by MaggieMaybe160



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Relationships, Best Friends, Books: Supernatural Series - Carver Edlund, Break Up Talk, Canon - Tie-in Novel, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Chick-Flick Moments, Coming Out, Dancing, Dancing and Singing, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Dean Winchester Gets Therapy, Developing Friendships, Eating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enochian (Supernatural), Epic Friendship, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fanart, Festivals, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Fuck Marry Kill, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hotels, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Love Confessions, M/M, Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Phone Calls & Telephones, Pining, Post-Break Up, Post-Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Sad Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Silly Dean Winchester, Sleepovers, Slow Burn, Spa Treatments, Suicidal Dean Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swimming, Temporary Character Death, Therapy, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2020-10-27 10:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 100,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20758859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160/pseuds/MaggieMaybe160
Summary: Donna is a fan of the friendaversary, so one year after she first meets Dean, she gives him a call to invite him out to celebrate. The friendship of Donna and Dean explored through canon from S10 to a canonically similar yet divergent S15.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all of my cheerleaders and the artists that contributed works for this fic!

Pain rockets through Dean’s arm, waking him up. It was just another stupid dream, warped and twisted into something the Mark enjoyed more than Dean. His fingers dig into the raised flesh on his forearm. He can feel that he’s sweat through his shirt. It would be hard to ignore, what with full drops of sweat rolling down his back as he takes slow and deep breaths to pull out of the nightmare. 

When his heart slows and his breathing is back to normal, Dean throws the blankets off and makes his way through the bunker to the bathroom. He locks the door and cranks the hot water before leaning against the sink, the porcelain under his palms cold under his grip. He stares into the mirror, silently reminding himself that he’s in control, not the Mark. He will not lose himself. Steam swallows his reflection.

With one finger, Dean draws what looks like a squiggle on the mirror. It’s the only Enochian symbol he knows. He had memorized it after Cas had drawn it for him. It wasn’t a present or anything. They had been curious about angel names and the human bastardization of their names. Well, Sam was. Dean just wanted another piece of Cas to cling to. 

His reflection shows through the Enochian spelling of Castiel before Dean swipes his hand through his drawing and sheds his sweat-soaked clothes. He holds his arm out under the too-hot water first, scorching the Mark. When his entire forearm is bright red, he twists on the cold water and steps the rest of the way in. 

Dean’s eyes close as he puts his face into the stream of warm water and all he can see is Cas’ true form from the short-lived glances he’d gotten when he was a demon. Blue eyes steal the show, melting away the angelic vision. The Mark, ever-present and more than willing to disrupt any peace that Dean feels, dull the blue eyes that Dean loves, sucking the life out and making Dean’s heart slam in his chest. His eyes flash open as he gasps and chokes on the water pouring onto his face. 

He rakes his nails down his arms, hurting the Mark right back, but it doesn’t do any good. It never does. Just like everything else Dean has tried so far. 

Dean finishes his shower quickly, hating to be alone with his own thoughts anymore. He steals Sammy’s hair products, lathering up his short hair in the much-more-than-quarter-sized dollop of shampoo and conditioner respectively. His own body soap is better than Sam’s though. Boy knows how to take care of his hair, but Dean obviously has the better soap. 

Dean dries off and pulls on the soft gray robe before wrapping the towel hat up over his hair. Dean takes comfort in the small things like his plush robes, expensive and stolen soaps, and the steam that surrounds him after a hot shower, the mist filling his lungs and softening his face. Dean can’t relax right now though. He tries, forcing himself to take a deep breath of the steam, but more than anything, he just wants to get dressed and go for a drive. 

Usually, Dean would stay in the bathroom, relaxing in his steam room as he groomed himself. Shaving, nail trimming, hair products, and if he’d brought cucumber slices, a full facial (not that he would ever admit to it) was what always had Sam banging on the door, reminding Dean that he isn’t the only one who lives there. Today, Dean leaves before Sam is even back from his morning jog. 

He pulls on his boxers and faded jeans, but as he reaches for his shirt, his phone starts to ring. He grabs his phone instead and checks the caller ID. Donna Hanscum. 

He hadn’t seen her since the vampire hunt a few weeks ago. The one that Jody said she could handle and Dean couldn’t stay out of. The one where the Mark wasn’t urging him to murder everyone in sight. The one where the sweet Sheriff that he’d met about a year ago at that fat-sucking spa was told that monsters are real. 

“Donna?” Dean picks up, grabbing his shirt now that his phone is pressed between his shoulder and his face. 

“Heya, Dean!” her bubbly voice answers. Dean can’t help but smile. She is a literal ray of sunshine. 

“What’s up? How ya been doin’?” He should have called her or Jody sooner to make sure she was doing okay after the vamp hunt. 

“If I had a tail I’d wag it!” They both laugh for a moment before she continues. “I was callin’ ‘cause our one-year friendaversary is here and, uh… See, before the whole ‘monsters are real and here’s a machete to chop off their head’ thing, I kind of got us some tickets to go to the spa together. Thought it would be cute seein’ as that was when we became friends. I don’t know if that’s awkward, though. What with the whole monster-spa bein’ what it was…” 

“What the hell is a friendaversary?” 

“Oh! That’s an anniversary for your friendships!” It’s ridiculous, weird, a little bit crazy… and adorable. 

“When’s our spa day?” Dean asks, yanking his shirt on and transitioning the phone into his hand. 

“Oh, uh, tomorrow. I got nervous and waited 'til the last moment. It’s okay if you can’t make it.”

“No, I’ll be there,” Dean promises, already on his way to the garage. 

“Great!” He can hear her grin through the phone and it’s contagious. This is the phone call he needed after last night’s nightmare. “I hope you don’t mind, but I was going to invite Sam on a different day so we had time, ya know?” 

“Perfect.”

“Great, I’ll text you the time and place!” 

“I’ll see you there, Donna.” 

“Bye, Dean!” 

He hangs up the phone, grabs his keys, and goes to the kitchen to grab a coffee while he waits for the text with an address. He leans against the counter as he hugs the mug between his palms. 

His phone buzzes and he reads the screen as he takes a sip of the caffeine. 

“You’re awake!” Sam says, announcing himself as he enters the kitchen. Dean pockets his phone and nods, playing sleepy as he lets his eyelids droop a little. He grunts into his mug to complete the look. “Or not,” Sam corrects himself incorrectly. 

Sam half laughs and grabs himself a glass of water. “What’re you doing today?”

“Am I still on research duty?” Dean asks. The research for the Mark is wielding no results. More frustrating than helpful, Dean has been confined to researching. Sam makes a face. “I think I need some fresh air,” Dean says before Sam can come up with another good reason why they should continue searching. 

“Oh?”

“Just going to go for a drive.” Dean finishes his coffee and washes the mug while Sam watches him. He thinks Dean doesn’t notice. He notices. He can feel Sam’s concern biting into him whenever he looks away. 

“I’ll stick to the books. Try to find something,” Sam promises. 

“Call me if you find anything,” Dean nods. 

“Have a good drive.” 

Dean nods again and leaves the kitchen, swinging his keys around his finger as he walks out of the bunker toward his beautiful car. He plops into his seat and runs one hand over the wheel as he puts the keys into the ignition. He can’t remember the last time he did anything for himself. He was going to have to thank Donna. 

The drive is the kind that should take about nine hours. Under Dean’s lead foot, it only takes six. He walks away from his car as gas pumps from the nozzle into the tank. He plays with his phone for a moment before dialing Donna Hanscum. 

“Heya, Dean!” Donna answers on the first ring. 

“Hey, uh. So I’m in town, grabbing some gas. Did you want to get this frienda-..? Anniversary friend thing?-”

“Friendaversary,” Donna supplies the strange word. 

“Friendaversary. Right. Did you want to grab a bite today?” Dean liked being around other people even if he was used to lying through his teeth. He liked helping people and on the special, rare occasions, connecting. Donna speaks his language. She’s goofy and easy to be around. And if Dean was being completely honest, he didn’t want to be alone right now. “If you don’t, that’s okay. I’ll just find a motel and see you in the morning.”

“Stop speakin’ nonsense! You’ll sleep here if you want to! I have the best sleepovers in all of Minnesota, but don’t go checkin’ up on that,” she laughs. “We can grab some lunch! I’ll meet you at Brick & Bourbon! You’ll just love it!”

“Sounds good.” 

Dean had never heard of this place, but the name is promising. Anything with bourbon in the title is probably up Dean’s alley. 

He walks back to his car after looking up directions real quick and makes his way over to Main Street. It’s an adorable street lined with brick buildings. Cute stores have people milling from building to building. A few people sit in the ice cream place. No one has a care in the world. Why should they? They haven’t been researching ancient curses given to Cain by God. Their arms and hearts don’t ache. They weren’t recently murdered by an angel only to wake up, the fires of Hell burning within them and turning their eyes black. No. They’re happy, holding hands as they smile and laugh, pointing to cute shirts in windows or stepping into restaurants. 

And that’s exactly what he’s supposed to be doing. He’s off-duty. He’s away for the weekend to have a spa day with his friend on their friendaversary. No research. No pain in his arm as he finds some parking. No fake badge or stiff suit. Just him, grabbing lunch like his life isn’t falling apart. Dean takes a deep breath. He needed this. 

Dean finds a small lot and parks next to a black Ford F-150 Raptor. From the looks of it, it’s the special edition. The license plate says D-TRAIN. Dean smiles to himself as he cuts his own engine. He has a feeling he already knows the owner of this truck. 

Dean walks inside and finds Donna. She gets up from her seat at their table to greet Dean with a grin and a hug. He smiles back as he walks over, hugging her tight before they part and both take seats. 

“It’s good to see you,” Dean says as he settles into his seat across from her. “You’re looking great!”

“Thanks! I lost six pounds.” She says it proudly, tilting her chin up and striking a pose with her hands on her hips. “Not because of any monsters this time, too!” Dean can’t help but laugh at that and she relaxes, sitting back. 

“Oh, hey Donna,” a waitress says as she walks over and hands them both menus. “Finally dating after Doug, I see.” She winks and Donna pales. 

“Uh, no. Not quite there,” Donna smiles uncomfortably. 

“I’m her cousin, Dean,” Dean interrupts with his best Minnesotan accent as he extends his hand and smiles. The waitress shakes his hand and has the good sense to look a little embarrassed. “Just visiting for the weekend.” 

“Well, it’s good to meetcha, Dean. Any friend of Donna’s is a friend of ours.” She smiles, still looking embarrassed. “I’ll leave you with the menus and be back with water in a moment.” 

Donna lets out a whispered laugh, leaning over the table. “She wasn’t expectin’ that, that’s for darn sure.”

“I hope that was okay,” Dean half laughs as he picks up his menu. 

“Oh, yeah. You betcha. That was great!” Donna sighs out the last of her laughs as she picks up her own menu. “I don’t even know why I’m lookin’ at this thing.”

“Why? What’s good?”

“They have a great charred caesar salad-”

“That’s a pass on the rabbit food. I tried it once.” Dean makes a face and Donna laughs. “What burger is your favorite?”

“I haven’t had a burger here in ages. Not since the divorce, actually. Hey, what do you mean you tried it _ once _?” 

“It’s a long story,” Dean says as he shifts in his seat. 

“Wouldja look at all the time I’ve got!” Donna sits back and crosses her arms to show she’s ready for whatever he’s got to say. Dean is sure she’s still not ready. She was just introduced to vampires. She might not be ready for any kind of backstory to Dean’s life, but he’s not going to be the one to decide that for her. 

“I was brainwashed into thinking I was someone else for two weeks by an angel named Zachariah —I call him Zach— whose goal was to get me to say yes to an archangel who wanted to use me as a meatsuit so he could end Lucifer and stop the apocalypse. Anyway, the person I thought I was for those two weeks was this weirdo health-nut who drank green smoothies and ate salads. When I snapped out of it I was starving to death. First thing I did was eat two burgers and drink a good beer.” 

Donna doesn’t say anything. Her mouth is wide open, her jaw practically on the table. Her arms had uncrossed, her palms flat on the table as she leans forward. Her eyes are filled with questions, curiosity, and maybe a little bit of fear for the way Dean has lived his life. Or the word apocalypse. She probably hadn’t known that was a thing a few years ago. 

“Wait, angels?” Oh, _angels _ is what she’s caught up on. “Apocalypse?” There it is. “This is a joke,” she says, a crooked smile attempting to change her face. 

“Nope. That was back in… uh, had to be 2009? Could have been 2008. I just know it happened after I used my get out of Hell free card.” 

“H-E- double hockey sticks!” The shock is back on her face. 

“Have you decided on what to order?” the waitress asks as she approaches the table. 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean says, looking back up at the waitress. “I’ll have a Wiseman Burger, medium rare, and your Rogue Choc Stout. Thanks.”

“Just the usual,” Donna says, handing her menu over with a small grimace. “With the Bent Golden Paddle IPA. Thanks, Lena.”

“Alright, coming right up!” 

“Okay, so how I told you was a little rough,” Dean admits. Donna nods. “You already know about vampires. You’ve got a great swing, by the way.” 

“Thanks.” Her face lights up at the compliment. Judging by her reaction, she hasn’t heard enough of them recently. “Jodes also told me about zombies, werewolves, all your basic horror flick monsters.” 

“Okay, awesome. So, you already know the movies are shit.” Donna nods seriously. “There’s other monsters too, though. Demons. Demons come with angels. Rule number one: angels are dicks. Well… Not all of them, but he’s a different story.”

“So angels and demons are real and one angel isn’t a dick?”

Dean thinks about it for a moment. He can’t classify Cas the same way he does all the rest. They get in fights. They have misunderstandings. They have fun, though. They talk and laugh and learn from each other. It doesn’t matter how mad he gets, he loves Cas. 

“Well, one saved me from Hell. He’s our friend.” Donna nods, accepting the exception to the first rule. “I guess not all demons are terrible either. There’s always exceptions…” He used to shoot first and ask questions later, but that had always been wrong. Just like people, monsters had stories. Not all of them were cold-blooded killers. Benny had been the best vampire he’d ever known. Meg had gone above and beyond to help them. The jury is still out on Crowley. 

“I thought we prayed to angels. I thought they were on our side.” 

“You can still pray. They do listen. I’m not going to take that away from you. They just don’t make great movie companions, ya know?” Or conversationalists, friends, business partners… 

“Oh. Yeah.” The way she says yeah is more like _yah_. Her accent is intense and Dean loves it. It’s part of what makes her so bubbly and good. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll work your way up to hunting with time and cases of the basic stuff. It’ll be a long time before you end up facing any of these guys. Uh, that is, if you decide to.”

“Do you think I should?” 

“I don’t know about should. I just know you’ve got good aim and no hesitation. You’d be a rockstar.” She grins again and nods.

“Okay then!” Donna says this like someone else might agree to a big business deal that they’ve been working on for months and can’t contain their excitement. “Okee dokee,” she sighs with a grin, shrugging her shoulders all the way up before letting them fall. 

There are always mixed feelings when it comes to recruiting a new hunter. On one hand, yay, new hunter. On the other, she used to be innocent. She was just a friendly cop who was helpful instead of hindering for once. Now, she had killed a vampire to save her friend and was on her way to becoming a hunter. Would the no friends rule apply to her too? She’s so excited, but she hasn’t yet met the demons that will haunt her. Anyway, she’s good at her job. Protect and serve to protect and save isn’t a far stretch and she already has friends in the hunter community, but Dean has a feeling she makes friends wherever she goes. 

“So, D-TRAIN?” Dean asks with a smirk as the waitress brings their drinks. 

“Darn tootin’,” she grins. “Choo, choo!” She pumps her arm twice and lets out a laugh. 

They pick up their beers at the same time and take a synchronized gulp. Dean has to force himself not to just chug the entire thing. He’s not always like this, but recently he’d been drinking his beer by the pack instead of by the bottle. Spa weekend. He was here to relax. He allows himself an extra sip before putting the mostly-full glass down on the table again. 

When the food comes out, Dean’s jaw almost drops when he sees the two sad dishes that are placed in front of his friend. A side salad and a single chicken slider. Dean looks at his own plate with the gigantic burger, delicious and mouth-watering. His eyes stray again, up to the pitiful platter in front of Donna. 

“What the fuck?” he asks simply, finding no other words. 

“What?” 

“Uh, is that a joke? Where’s your food?” Dean points to the slider, that maybe as an appetizer would have been delicious, but could never pass for a meal. “Is this about losing weight because of that douchebag?” 

Donna turns a shade of red that makes Dean’s stomach flip. He doesn’t want to hurt her, but she needs to let go of this insane idea that the weight she has is a problem. Dean, while not attracted to her, knows that she is beautiful. She doesn’t need to take shit from anyone about any kind of weight. This is ridiculous. 

“You’ve been doing great with everything. Coping with the divorce and working on yourself, but you and I both know that eating that isn’t going to help you. You’re allowed to enjoy your food. You’re allowed to eat real food and feel beautiful.” Dean switches their plates. 

“What are you doing?” Donna asks in a whisper, her brown eyes wide. 

“I’ll eat this...” Dean looks down at the salad with distaste. “Love yourself.” Dean gestures for her to eat his burger as he picks up a fork and stabs into the lettuce. 

Donna’s smile sneaks across her lips as she watches him take a bite. “Okay,” she agrees bravely, picking up the burger that requires both hands. She sinks her teeth in and smiles with closed lips as she chews the first burger she’s had in _awhile. _

“How’s that?” Dean asks, smiling despite the healthy green flavor in his mouth. 

“Delicious,” Donna answers with her mouth full. 

Dean pushes the salad to the side and flags down the waitress. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he says with a wink.


	2. Chapter 2

“Here it is: my humble abode,” Donna says as she leads Dean through the front door. The first thing Dean notices about the living room are the pictures. Propped up in their frames on the bookshelves and hanging on the walls are pictures of Donna and who had to be her loved ones. Smiling faces beam from the glossy paper out at the room. There’s one new one. Jody stands next to Donna. Everyone is in their uniforms. Jody has a crooked smirk that looks comical beside Donna’s look of absolute delight. 

Dean hadn’t noticed himself walking into the living room and right up to the photos to inspect them, but there he is, his nose practically pressed against the glass, his heart breaking. His photos are faded, torn, bent, and shoved into a drawer. When he had lived with Lisa for that year, she had had photos up around the house like this. She had invited him to put up his own, make himself feel more at home. When he didn’t, she didn’t ask questions. Instead, they took a few posed pictures on family picnics and dates so that there would be some that he could hang onto. He didn’t keep them. When they broke up, those photos were remade by Cas, Dean’s image fading from each one. 

Dean tears his eyes away and clears his throat as he takes in the rest of the space. Donna leads him around, showing him where the kitchen and bathrooms are. 

“So how do you want to do this? Slumber party in the living room or you can have the living room to yourself. If I can find the stuff for it, we can camp in the backyard.” 

“First one sounds good, I guess.” 

Dean had his own room at the bunker and that sacred space was _his_, but he hated sleeping in new spaces alone. He was used to sharing motel rooms with Sam, sleeping back to back with Benny in Purgatory, finding a one night stand to share a bed with when he was traveling alone, or researching through the night. Options a-d were out of the question and this was a friendaversary. Might as well have a sleepover and gossip until the early hours. 

“Oh for sure,” Donna beams. “Bring in your stuff then!” 

Dean returns only a few minutes later with his pre-packed bag that he keeps in the Impala. Both couches are set up with bedding and both look impossibly comfy. Dean plops his bag on the end of one couch and sits down to pull off his boots. 

Donna comes back into the room with two glasses of water. She sets them on coasters and sits on the second made-up couch. Dean notices the cartoon peanut butter and jelly socks that Donna’s wearing. Why don’t more men's socks have cute food drawings all over them? Dean would wear some if they had any. 

“We can watch something and get drunk before playin’ games or the other way around,” Donna suggests. “What sounds good to ya?”

“The obvious choice here is to get drunk while watching Miss Congeniality.” Dean says it more as a joke than anything else, but Donna agrees immediately. 

“Get comfy in your jammies and I’ll bring the wine! We’re about to get white girl wasted!” Donna says excitedly, getting up again before Dean can protest or answer in any way. When she’s out of the room, Dean allows himself a smile that takes over the shocked expression he had been wearing. No teasing had come when he’d offered up some goofy rom-com. No questions either. Just a demand to get into his _jammies _and drink hard liquor. 

Dean goes to his bag and pulls out a pair of gray plaid pajama pants and his black hoodie before heading to the bathroom to change. It’s only three in the afternoon and he’s putting pajamas on. He’s been chatting and having _fun _since he got here and his arm hasn’t bothered him once. He mentally marks the first half of today a win and bundles up his jeans in his arms before leaving the bathroom. 

When he gets back out to the living room, Donna isn’t back yet, but the coffee table is filled with tall bottles of wines and spritzers. Red, white, and rosé are all present next to a cheese plate with crackers and grapes. 

Donna returns in fluffy pink pants with a gray t-shirt. She looks excited, thrilled even. She goes to her DVD collection and grabs the movie of choice, showing Dean over her shoulder before popping it into the player and grabbing the remote. She takes a seat next to Dean on the couch. 

“Straight from the bottle?” Dean asks, noticing the lack of glassware on the coffee table. 

“Oh, yeah. You betcha!” Donna grins, grabbing a bottle and uncorking it. 

The movie starts and so does their quiet sips as they pass the bottle back and forth. The uncertainty of watching a movie for the first time with someone new keeps them from commentating or slouching into the couch. They watch each other for reactions to scenes until the wine loosens them up. 

“Miss Rhode Island, describe your perfect date,” Captain Kirk of the beauty pageant says on screen. 

“That's a tough one. I'd have to say April 25, because it's not too hot, not too cold,” Miss Rhode Island replies in sync with Donna. Dean bursts out laughing and looks over at Donna who has joined him. 

Dean grabs some grapes and pops a few into his mouth before he pauses and looks over at his friend. “You know how they’re all like friends and whatever?” Dean asks.

“Yah,” Donna says slowly, looking over at Dean as she eats a cracker. 

“They teach her like all the makeup stuff and the hair and the… the stuff or whatever?” Dean says, waving his hand vaguely at the screen. Donna’s smile grows wider as she follows his train of thought. “So like, every time I joke about slumber parties, I always say we can braid Sam’s hair.”

“You can’t braid hair, can ya?” 

“Nope,” Dean shakes his head as he grabs another bottle of wine. Onto bottle number four. They had given up on sharing a while ago. She was still on her second bottle, nearing the end of it. 

“I’ll teach you, but you’re going to have to braid my hair,” Donna says, too smiley to come across as serious. They both start laughing and lean into each other to finish the movie off. They sing the song together as the pageant ladies ascend and descend their staircase together. They make kissy noises at the tv as the love interest finally kisses the main character. As the credits run, Donna gets up and does a strange run-slash-shuffle down the hallway to grab the hair essentials. 

Dean grabs his phone and dials the first number for pizza delivery that the Google on his phone offers up to his buzzed search. 

Donna comes back with a brush and two black hair-ties. She takes Miss Congeniality out of the DVD player and replaces it with The Proposal. She sits down on the floor in front of Dean, her back against the couch between his legs and hands him the brush and hair-ties over her shoulder. 

“I still don’t know what I’m doing,” Dean tells her as he starts to brush her golden hair. 

“After you finish getting the tangles out, split into three sections.” Donna pops a grape in her mouth and presses play on the movie. Dean works carefully, brushing out all of the knots before setting the brush aside and making three sections. 

Donna pulls the left section over her shoulder and tells him to hold the other two. “Now cross the right one over the middle one.” He does and she takes the middle-now-right piece to put it over her shoulder as she hands him the left one. “Same thing. Left over middle.” 

Dean does as he’s told and soon, he’s weaving the world’s loosest braid. He ties it off and proudly looks at the poofy mess. Donna pulls it to the side to inspect it. 

“Oofta. Good first try. Do it again, but pull tighter so it’s not so…” She giggles and shakes her head, dropping the braid. “Poof.” 

“Gottcha,” Dean says, taking the tie out and running his fingers through his previous work to start again. This one he does on his own, listening to the movie and concentrating very hard on pulling tight, but not too tight. It still turns out weirdly lumpy, the top of the braid tighter than the middle, and then the tip regaining some structure. He may have gone out of order at one point too. 

The doorbell rings and Donna pauses the movie as Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds stand in their shared bedroom awkwardly. Dean gets up, stepping around her and going to the door to grab the pizza. Not bothering with wine glasses, they also don’t bother with plates. Dean sits on the ground next to Donna and balances the pizza box on their knees. 

“Beautiful,” Donna says, mock tearing up as Dean opens the box. They take their slices and take their bites at the same time. “Mmm…” 

“Mhm,” Dean answers, smiling.

“So, you braided my hair. Another slumber party classic is painting nails,” Donna informs him, slurring a little now that his sixth bottle of wine has a dent in it. Dean nods. “What color do you want?” 

“Me?” Dean asks, looking at his nails and considering the question. “I have no idea.” 

“I’ll get the colors!” She runs off down the hallways and Dean drops his hand and looks up at the movie again. When his friend returns, she has a box of potions. Bottles of every shape, size, and color fill the bin that she puts in front of Dean. 

“I was thinkin’ green to go with your eyes,” Donna suggests, grabbing a few different greens and putting them into Dean’s hands. The bottles clink as he looks at the different shades of green. 

“This one, but only my toes so Sam doesn’t see,” he says, holding out a sparkly dark green. Donna takes the bottle from him as he takes off his socks and turns to face her. 

Dean grabs a pillow from the couch and leans back on it as he relinquishes his feet to his friend, looking at the ceiling. He tries not to laugh as Donna weaves something between his toes to separate them. 

“Stop squirming!” Donna giggles.

“I am not!” Dean protests immediately, even though he had been wiggling at the strange feeling. He bites the inside of his cheek as he looks back down at his feet and sees tissue stuck between his toes. “Is it too late to change my mind?”

“On color? No,” Donna smiles wickedly. “On getting your little piggies painted… yep!” 

“Fuck,” Dean groans, covering his face to hide the smile. He’s sure she can hear it anyway. When he looks again, his toenails are becoming green and glittered. One foot is finished with the first coat. He watches as she carefully works on his left foot. 

“Don’t fudge this up,” Donna warns, her eyes catching him watching without raising her head. Dean stays perfectly still as he watches her work, waiting to wiggle his toes until she’s done. 

“Is it done?” Dean asks as she gets up to change the movie. 

“No, just dryin’. Lake House or While You Were Sleeping?” Donna asks, holding up the two movies in questions. 

“Lake House,” they say together. Donna grins as she puts the movie in and returns to Dean’s feet. He has the remote now. He waits for her to be situated before pressing play. 

“You’ve seen this one before, then?” Donna asks.

“Oh, yeah. You betcha,” Dean says seriously, nodding. 

“Shut up!” Donna laughs, smacking his leg gently. 

“Truth,” Dean says into the dark. He’s lying on the couch, his eyes open and fixed on where the ceiling would be if he could see it. The room still smells vaguely like pizza. 

“How did you become a hunter?” Donna asks from the other couch. The question, asked to any other person might have been innocent. It could have been a story of a parent taking their child out to a blind to look down a scope at some animals that were soon to become dinner. 

“Short version or the long version?” Dean sighs, putting an arm under his head to open up his chest that suddenly feels just a little tighter. 

“Oofta…” 

“Short version is that my mom was killed by a demon and my dad needed to solve it. Might take roughly fifteen years to tell the long version so I’ll leave it there. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Donna says with determination. 

“Are you done with killing yourself because of Doug?” 

“I mean dare,” Donna says quickly.

“Nope.”

Donna muffles her groan in the pillow. “It’s easier said than done,” she answers after a moment. “Yes. I haveta.” 

“Promise me.”

“I pinky promise.” Between the couches, they both reach toward the other and link their pinkies for a moment before taking their hands back. 

“Alright then,” Dean nods even though she can’t see him.

“Truth or dare?” 

“Truth. You’re not going to catch me taking a dare until you do.”

“Have you ever been in love?” 

Dean’s heart stops in his chest. Blue eyes flash in the dark as his face heats. Butterflies fill his stomach as his angel’s name threatens to cross his lips. 

Dean clears his throat and shuts his eyes tight as Donna gasps. He can hear the excitement and joy in the simple sound. “Once,” Dean admits. 

“Currently?” Donna asks eagerly. 

“No two questions in a row, cheater! Truth or dare?”

“Dare!”

“I dare you to burn everything you still own of Doug’s.” Dean smirks at his own fantastic dare. Dares are usually so hard to come up with. 

“Okay, in a minute. Are you _ currently _ in love?” 

“I haven’t chosen a truth or a dare yet!” Dean protests.  
  
“Truth or dare?” Donna asks impatiently.

“Dare!” Dean bursts out, sitting up. 

“I dare you to tell me if you are currently in love!”  
  
Dean covers his face with his hands and falls back onto his pillows. Every _Hello, Dean_ keeps his heart beating. Every glance in the rearview mirror to meet those eyes keeps him moving. Every shoulder brush, missed reference, and squint fills his lungs with air. “Yes, okay? Yes. I am currently in love. Can we go burn a box of shit now, please?”

Donna squeals before turning on a lamp. Dean keeps his face hidden from her, the red in his cheeks still as hot as the fire in Hell. 

“Well, come on,” Donna says after retrieving her box. Dean sits up and follows her out to the backyard. There’s a fire pit that’s begging to be lit and a blanket above them, the constellations mapped out across it. 

“I’ll start the fire?” Dean offers. Donna presses her lips together and nods. “Look, if it’s too soon, I can give you another dare.”

“No. Two years is long enough. You’re right. I should be treating myself better. I will.”

Dean nods and turns back to the pit, building up a good start before whipping out the silver lighter. The lighter itself had done worse. Usually used in burning bodies, Dean imagined it was good to burn something normal once in awhile. 

Dean takes one step back so he’s next to his friend. She glances at him and then down to the box in her arms. She heaves a sigh and nods once, pulling a stack of letters out of the box. 

“He used to write me love letters. They stopped when we got married, but I held onto them,” Donna admits. She drops them into the flames and watches them burn for a moment before reaching back into the box. 

Dean watches her shoulders relax and her face become more serene as she unburdens herself of pictures, a stained sweater, his old business cards, and other useless items that belonged to a useless man. When she’s done, Donna leads Dean up to sit on the porch swing with her to watch the fire consume all of it. 

“Can I have a hug?” Donna asks softly without looking at him. Dean doesn’t hesitate. He pulls her close against his side on the swing and keeps his arms tight around her. He rests his cheek on top of her head. “Thanks, Dean.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, the living room is filled with the regretful groans of the hungover. Dean buries his face in his pillow as Donna sits up and stumbles off to find water and aspirin. Dean listens to her feet retreat and starts to doze again. He jolts back awake when Donna grabs his arm and presses the medicine into it. 

Dean does as he’s told and takes the pills, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He hasn’t had a hangover with the Mark on his arm. It doesn’t matter how much he drinks, his would-be hangover is all crammed into the squiggle on his arm, bursting with pain.

“I’ll make breakfast,” Dean grunts. Donna nods into her water. 

Cooking in someone else’s kitchen has never been a problem Dean’s had. He can’t remember the last time he stayed at a home that wasn’t his. He finds the pots and pans, setting up the stove before he goes into the fridge to pull out the eggs, bread, and bacon. 

Donna comes in when the pans heat up and the smells start to circulate. Donna’s braid, already a mess before she fell asleep, is a catastrophe now. Dean plates their greasy breakfast and they take their seats at the counter next to each other. 

“So, what was that? Ten bottles?” Donna asks after a moment. Sam does this to him. He knows. He knows he drinks a lot. He’s aware of how bad it is. He’s also the one with this stupid mark on his arm. He’s the one who is currently weighing the pros and cons of amputation, not that the Mark would let that happen. He’s sure he tried that before. Before the demon thing. 

“Nine, I think,” Dean corrects her. 

“Thinking we’re going to stick to mocktails today.”

“Mocktail?” Dean doesn’t like the sound of it, but he knows she’s right. He puts his hands up in surrender to keep it light. “Okay, okay.”

“Good.” Donna nods once. “This is delicious, by the way,” she says around a full bite. 

Dean pretends to be humble for a full second before saying, “I know. My cooking is the best.” She bats at his shoulder and he tries to hide his flinch from the immediate pain. 

“What was that?” Donna asks, chewing slower. 

“Nothing. Where do you keep the towels? I need a shower,” Dean tries, getting up and backing away from her. 

“Dean Winchester, come back here,” Donna demands, getting up and following him. “Geez!” She succeeds in grabbing his arm and this time his face screws up before he can hide it. 

Worry clouds her face as she pushes his sleeve up and finds the raised and red brand on his arm. Dean yanks it back down as he wrenches his arm away from her. 

“What in the-”

“It’s fine, Donna. It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Dean watches her pale. “Look, I’m going to take a shower, get dressed, and explain. Alright?” 

She nods slowly and goes with Dean back to the living room where he sits her back down on the couch before she faints or falls. 

“It’s-”

“Don’t lie to me one more time, Dean,” Donna warns. It’s his turn to be stunned into silence. He sighs and agrees with a bob of his head. Donna grips his hand that’s on her shoulder, keeping him from leaving. 

“I don’t really know where to start,” Dean admits. 

“The beginning.”

“In the beginning, there were two brothers called Cain and Abel,” Dean offers. 

“That’s not funny,” Donna interrupts. 

“No, not really, but it’s relevant.” Dean sighs and readjusts. He does his best to explain the first Mark and how he came about getting it without mentioning his own death. “Sam and I are finding a way to get it off, though,” Dean promises weakly. “It just hurts sometimes. I really am okay. In pain and a little worse for wear, but I am okay.”

Donna throws her arms around him in a tight hug. He wishes he’d had an actual friendship with her before. They started out on good terms, but strangers. This is their third meeting, and she’s already this worked up and involved with his life. She cares. She also needs him as much as he needs her. At least, he hopes. Dean hugs back and doesn’t dare end it until she’s ready to break it. 

When she does let her arms fall away, she heaves a heavy sigh and slaps her knees. “Alright. No more of this. This is a good day.” 

They take turns taking showers. Dean goes first, and despite having grown up in motels using different shower knobs every other week, he still fumbles. He turns the heat on high and scorches the Mark as has become his ritual before actually washing himself. The heaviness from the morning drips down the drain as he covers himself in tropical smelling soap. 

He dresses in the bathroom and exits, his pajamas bundled in his arms ready to be discarded into the duffle bag. Donna is on the back porch, a cup of tea in her hands as she swings idly on the porch swing that they had watched the fire from the night before. 

“Shower’s open,” Dean announces, sitting down next to her. 

“Do you want to finish this?” Donna asks. Dean takes it from her and takes a sip. It’s not terrible, but it’s not coffee. “I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” she promises, patting Dean’s knee before getting up. 

Dean watches her disappear back into the house before looking back at the firepit and swinging gently. Ashes of her past fill the pit. He’s leaving after the day at the spa and she shouldn’t have to clean it up alone. 

Dean puts the now-empty mug on the railing before walking down to the fire pit and getting on his hands and knees, cleaning it out into the empty box that they’d left there. Unfortunately, he knows he doesn’t have enough time to make it perfect, but he can try. 

When the box is filled and the pit is empty, Dean takes the box to the trash. He grabs a few logs from the stack and makes a small pyre to be decorative until her next fire. 

Donna walks into the backyard to find Dean covered in black ash. She lets out a surprised laugh and he turns around with a guilty smile. 

“You’re goin’ to need to change and clean up again,” Donna laughs. Dean does as he’s told, changing into his hoodie and a new pair of jeans after washing the soot from his hands. 

“Car’s packed with essentials. Ready to go?” 

“You’re driving?”

“Darn tootin’!” 

Dean thinks about protesting, but it was her invitation. Dean doesn’t say another word about it as he follows her out to D-TRAIN. He hops into the passenger seat and feels excitement flood him. When was the last time he was at a spa to relax and unwind? Never. 

“Thanks for this,” Dean says as Donna starts driving. 

“Thanks for comin’. Wasn’t sure you would,” Donna admits as she smiles over at him. They both look back out at the road and watch as Stillwater fades away. 

The spa is already way too nice and Dean’s only made it as far as the front desk. Donna walks up, coupons in hand, to check them in. Dean inspects everything around them. Crystals and essential oils. Aromatherapy and expensive jewelry. The music playing is gentle and soothing. 

“And who’s checking in?” the receptionist asks kindly with a soft voice and a smile. 

“Donna Hanscum and Dean Hanscum,” Donna says. Dean spins on his heel and meets Donna’s wide eyes. She makes a face and he turns back around before the receptionist sees the silent conversation. “He’s my cousin,” Donna says quickly. 

“Fantastic. We have those reservations right here. Two full body massages, is that right?” 

“Yes,” Donna nods. 

“Alright. In a moment I’ll lead you two back to the locker rooms and get you settled. You’ll have full access to the pool before and after your treatments if you like. Make sure to fill these out,” the receptionist hands them both a page of questions. 

A small man in the uniform of the spa comes out to greet Dean and leads him away from the women. He waves to Donna and smiles when she waves back excitedly. 

Dean is led to a room that he would never in a million years call “a locker room.” Sure, there are lockers. Lockers with fluffy robes and spa sandals. There are also showers with over six showerheads for one person and a steam room. The steam isn’t just steam, either. It’s eucalyptus and lavender. The _lounge _where he’s supposed to be collected by his masseur has a row of plush chaise lounge chairs, a bar of crystal infused water, and snacks. What the fuck is this place? 

Once Dean is left alone, he strips and pulls on the fluffy robe. He’s already in love. He finds another water jug. This one is water infused with strawberries. He takes a cup of it and tries to sip it rather than chug. It’s so damn good. 

He turns his attention to the shower. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t turn on every showerhead at once. He takes off his robe and steps into the blissful shower, not allowing himself to turn it too high to scorch his Mark this time. This day is about him. This shower is for him. 

He wraps a towel around his hips and makes his way to the steam room, sitting down on the wooden bench and closing his eyes. The steam is thick and hot. The warning outside had said the room is set to 102 degrees Fahrenheit and to stay no longer than fifteen minutes. Dean pulls in slow, meditative breaths of the scented steam. 

Dean only makes it ten of the allotted fifteen minutes, but he feels pampered regardless. He puts his robe back on, ditching the towel in one of the hampers and making his way to the men’s lounge. He grabs some of the crystal water and gulps his first two cups too fast, rehydrating after the steam room. His third, he sips slowly as he fills out the health questionnaire. 

“What areas to focus on?” Dean mutters as he reads one of the questions. “All of it?” He guesses, knowing full well he’s never had a real massage and lives a life that practically requires it. He finishes the page and lets himself relax into the chair, wondering if Donna is doing the exact same thing as him. 

“Dean Hanscum?” a woman asks from the doorway. Dean sits up. “Time for your massage. Right this way.” Dean follows her to a dim room with one of those weird tables with a face hole near the top. 

Dean hands the woman the paper he’d filled out and she looks it over quickly. 

“Okay, so you’ve never had a massage and you still want deep tissue?”

“Trust me, sister. I’m going to need it,” Dean says. She smiles knowingly and nods. She shows him where to leave his robe and shoes in the corner of the room and asks him if he needs anything else. He shakes his head, unsure of what else he could possibly need. 

“Alright, I’ll give you a minute to get comfortable. Please lie face down under the sheet.” She steps out of the room and closes the door, leaving Dean alone in the dim room with nice music. 

He hangs his robe up on the peg and gets onto the table. It’s not something that looks comfortable, but in this case, looks are deceiving. He pulls the sheet up to cover himself and rests his face on the strange donut hole, the sides pressed against his cheeks. 

The masseur knocks on the door gently. 

“Come in,” Dean calls. She steps back into the room and begins her work. He doesn’t fall asleep even though he had been warned he might. He feels knots under his skin loosen and dissolve. Her hands work at all the tension, trying to release thirty-one years of pain and hunting. 

When she’s finished, Dean feels better, but also vaguely like he’s been beaten up. 

“Thank you,” she says softly. 

“Thanks,” Dean says automatically. 

“Get up slowly whenever you’re ready. I’ll be outside with a drink for you. Would you like water, sparkling apple cider, or champagne?” 

“Sparkling cider,” Dean says, remembering his promise to stick to mocktails today. Not that champagne is his drink of choice, but alcohol is alcohol. 

He listens to the door open and close before he sits up and checks himself. There are no visible bruises. His shoulders feel a million times better. He can move his head. He swivels his head around, letting it fall to either side to bask in the after-glow of having had a massage. 

When Dean finally gets up, he wraps himself up in his fluffy robe and opens the door. There she is, waiting with a flute filled with sparkling cider. 

He’s surprised to find that a full hour has passed since he went in. It didn’t feel that long. He finishes his cider before going to his locker to grab his swimming suit. He’d bought it on the way to Donna’s. He rips the tag off and pulls them on before walking outside to the pool. 

Donna is there already, sitting in a lounge chair in a cute bathing suit as she drinks water out of a champagne flute. Her hair is down for once, blonde curls cascading down her shoulders. Dean wishes she could see how beautiful and relaxed she looks right now. 

“Hey, stranger,” Dean says, taking the lounge chair next to her. 

“Hiya,” she grins. 

“How was your massage?” Dean asks as he stretches, still getting used to the feeling. 

“I would assume fantastic,” Donna says thoughtfully. “I fell asleep in the first five minutes. Hope she didn’t mind the roarin’ snores.” She laughs and Dean joins. She’s doomed to fall asleep during every spa treatment she ever gets. 

Dean leaves his robe and towel on the chair next to her and slides into the pool, standing in the water facing her. She makes a face when he motions for her to follow, but she gets up anyway. She walks in from the steps and Dean meets her, pulling her in by her hands. 

“Whoa there!” Donna laughs. 

“How else are you going to get in fast enough?” 

She splashes him with a small wave and he falls backward into the water as if he’s been shot. Well… as if he’s a civilian who’s been shot. She laughs as he cries, “Ahh! You cursed brat! Look what you’ve done! I’m melting! Melting! Oh, what a world what a world! Who would’ve known that a woman like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness! Oh no! I’m going!” Dean goes under the water and pushes the air out of his mouth for bubbles to replace him on the surface. When he hops back up, Donna is giggling. It’s a good thing they had early appointments. No one else is out here yet. 

“Okay, wicked witch.” Donna grins and Dean bows as if to an audience larger than one. 

A few other people walk out of the building and find seats around the pool. Everyone looks freshly rejuvenated. Blissful. Dean feels like he’s watching a movie. This is a club he’s never been invited to. Not before Donna. 

They both get out of the pool to sunbathe side by side. A waitress comes over to take any drink orders and Donna looks over at Dean to give him the first order. 

“Shirley Temple, please. Extra cherry if you can.” 

“That sounds perfect,” Donna agrees.

“I’ll be right back with those,” the waitress says before walking away. 

Dean throws his arm over his eyes, having no sunglasses. The warmth from the sun feels good on his skin. Something about this place feels magical. He clenches his jaw and tries to force the idea away. This isn’t a case. It’s nice. That’s all. 

“Is there a backup plan right now or are you winging it?” Dean asks out of the blue.

“Backup plan for what now?” 

“Doug.” 

“Oh.” Donna is quiet for a moment. “I’m just going to roll with it. Leave him in the dust. No more Doug. Love myself.” Dean smiles at the last bit. “What about you? Who is the mystery person?” 

Dean chokes, having forgotten his admission from last night. He takes his arm away from his eyes and sits up. “Remember how I told you one of our friends is an angel?” Donna nods enthusiastically, her eyes brightening. “Well, his name is Castiel.”

“Does he know?” Donna asks. There was no room for hesitation. She skipped over the part where Cas is a guy. She skipped over the part where Cas isn’t even human. She leaped right over every worry Dean has ever had about coming out to anyone with one question. 

“No.” Dean shakes his head, his fingers laced together tightly. 

“How long?” Donna shoots back immediately, eating up the details.

“How long have I loved him or how long has he not known?”

“Isn’t that kind of the same answer?” 

“You’re right. Uh.” Dean pushes air out of his mouth through his lips, counting the years. “Maybe a little over six years.” 

“Oofta. That’s a big one.” 

Dean looks up at her and fights the urge to thank her. He knows she wouldn’t have it, so he keeps it locked up. No chick flick moments even though they had a marathon last night. 

“Would you believe I stabbed him when we first met?” Dean laughs, sitting back on his lounge chair. 

“No!” Donna gasps, turning to stare at him. 

“To be fair, at that point, he was the most powerful being we had come across.”

“And you thought stabbin’ the guy was going to do somethin’?” Donna clucks with her tongue and shakes her head. “I’m new and I know that’s worth a heap of dung.” 

“Well, okay. I tried shooting him with salt, stabbing him with a blade specially made for demons, and had drawn every sigil I knew around us to keep him away.”

“Sounds like you were meant to be,” Donna says with a sneaky smile. 

“Shut up,” Dean warns, his heart already locking her words inside to repeat in idle moments, the next time he sees Cas, and that second before he falls asleep. Dean’s finger draws the Enochian symbol for Cas on his thigh as he thinks. 

“What’s he look like?” Donna asks.

“He’s shorter than me. Bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. They keep every ocean and sky. If you look into them in the dark, the stars look back at you. Dark, wild hair. I think he’s been combing it recently. When we first met, it stuck out in every direction. He wears a suit and he usually wears a blue tie that made his eyes look bluer, I think. Except the tie is always backwards. It drives me crazy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s just who he is. And he always, _ always _wears a tan trenchcoat.” Dean pauses, swallowing hard. “He’s gorgeous and untouchable.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do.” Dean nods. “But thanks.” He feels the heat in his cheeks and the tightness of his chest, but there’s a strange release to having finally told someone.

Telling Donna feels like one half of a weight lifted. He can’t tell Sam. He can’t tell anyone else, especially Cas. He keeps telling himself that he will. He’ll tell Cas someday, and if he dares to dream about a scenario where something comes of it, he’ll tell his family. Until then, he’ll have to live with the fact that one person on this planet knows, and she loves him just the same. 


	4. Chapter 4

Dean wraps Donna in his arms as they stand beside the Impala in her driveway. His things are packed back into the car and a long drive stretches before him. Donna hugs back fiercely. He’s not sure she’s ever letting go. 

“Thanks for getting me up here,” Dean says, his cheek against the top of her head. 

“You betcha.” Donna’s voice is muffled in his chest. He doesn’t want to let go either. He doesn’t want to leave the place that seems cut off from the rest of his life. He has to drive back to worried looks from Sam and lying to Cas. He has to go back to poring over books, searching in vain for a cure against his own idiocy. He has to go back to drinking alone in his room to quiet the Mark. Back to hunting just to keep moving. Back to keeping his lips sealed on being currently in love. 

“Oh yeah, you betcha!” Dean teases and Donna giggles. They finally release each other and she looks up at him with a smile that says she knows he doesn’t want to go. “I’ll see you soon, hopefully.” 

“Safe drive, Dean.” She watches him get into the car as she steps to her lawn. She waves to him and he watches it in the rearview mirror until he rounds the corner and she’s gone. 

Once he’s on the empty highway, Dean picks up his phone and dials Sam. He’s probably worried him enough. The phone only has time to ring once before Sam picks up.

“Dean! Where are you?” 

“Miss me?” Dean teases. “I’m on my way home.”

“Where are you?” Sam asks again. Dean rolls his eyes. 

“I don’t know. Six hours away maybe. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be there in the morning.” 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas’ voice interrupts. Dean’s heart screeches to a halt in his chest.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean answers, wishing he could reach through the phone. What he wouldn’t give to look into his mirror to find Cas in his backseat. 

His arrival at the bunker is a quiet one. Sam didn’t wait up, his worries quelled by the phone call. Dean walks through his home slowly, not wanting to sleep quite yet. His arm aches and he can feel the nightmares lurking. 

In the kitchen, Dean grabs a six-pack of beer before returning to a table in the silent library. He takes a swig and leans back in his chair, his face to the ceiling. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, taking a swing at the silence and shattering it with the only sound Dean craves. Cas takes the seat opposite Dean.

Dean sits up, taking another gulp of the beer before looking at Cas. The angel’s face is drawn, tired worry etched into every line of his face. 

It had been easy telling Donna how he felt. It had been a dream to finally speak the words. On his drive home, Dean had tried to work his way up to maybe telling Cas when he got back to the bunker. With the love of his life seated across from him now, his mouth can’t find words. 

“Where did you go?” Cas asks as Dean continues to drink. 

“Out.” In his boots, Dean scrunches up his toes to further hide the polish. 

“For two days?”

“What are you, my wife?” Dean regrets it the second the words cross his lips, but Cas doesn’t react. “Forget it.” 

“Sam was worried about you,” Cas says. Dean scoffs, rolling his eyes and taking another sip. “I was worried about you.”

“Don’t, okay? I’m fine. Really, Cas.” If Dean were more affectionate, he might have reached out to Cas to hold his hand and reassure him with his lies. If the grass was greener, if the sky was bluer, if Dean had an ounce of courage to tell the man across from him that he was in love, maybe he’d be his. 

Dean pushes away from the table and gets up. Grabbing his beer, Dean heads to his room, avoiding Cas’ eyes as he does. When he makes it to his room, he closes the door and presses his back against it, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw through the pain in his arm and his heart. 

He slides to the floor and grabs his second beer. He listens as he drinks, half hoping to hear Cas coming after him while the other half is screaming to be left alone. 

Dean knew it was too good to be true when he told Sam that the Mark wasn’t controlling him. He’d known it was too good to be true when he was able to enjoy a slumber party and a spa day. That good luck has run out. 

His sleep is plagued with terror. Flashes of massacres chase him through his dreams. He’s the culprit, his hand shaking slightly as he grips a blood-soaked blade. His heart pounds, trying to escape the brutality maybe, but part of him wants it. He knows what part. The stain on his arm, marking him a murderer. Blood fills his vision, the gurgles of the dying in his head, Dean dreams on. 

Every knot worked out of his shoulders at the spa reforms as his nightmares build. All of his muscles tense under the skin, killing everything that moves in his dreams, yearning for more. Sweat rolls down his back and beads on his forehead. 

Dean sits bolt upright in his bed, breathing hard with adrenaline racing through his veins. The dark presses in around him. Three letters drip from his lips, a small sound of helplessness, “Cas.” 

Dean pushes his blankets away from him as he tries to reset his heart rhythm to something resembling normal. He tries to bleach away the blood in his mind. He makes it to his sink so splash icy water on his face. 

Less than twenty-four hours ago Dean was happy, drinking infused water and Shirley Temples poolside after his first massage. He’d been laughing and carefree and now he’s washing imaginary blood from his face in the dark, wanting to call out for help, but silenced by his own self admissions of being fine. 

He swallows the fear he has of himself and squares his shoulders. He’s fine.

He takes a shower and gets dressed, making himself look as much like himself as he can. Flannel, jeans, perfect hair, understated smile to hide the murderous cravings. He’s fine. 

Dean makes coffee and pours two mugs. He doesn’t bother making breakfast even though he’s starving. He really is fine. 

He laughs at The Three Stooges, forcing himself to smile like he’d learned from an old friend long ago. “Better than ever,” he promises Sammy without looking him in the eye. He devours the sandwich he’s brought, ravenous for every bite. He’s. Fine. 

He repeats those words to himself as he drives to Cas’ emergency call. He tells himself those words as his mind whispers of rage and violence. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. 

“There’s some stuff you’ve gotta let go. The ones you’ve let down. The people you can’t save. You’ve gotta forget about ‘em,” Dean advises his angel as he eats his burger. The tension is higher with Sam gone as Dean eats alone next to Cas. The fury that’s been building all night and all morning seems taught, making it harder to breathe as he thinks the words Donna had dared to utter: _ sounds like you were meant to be. _

Dean feels manic, unable to stop moving or talking or faking every grin, wink, joke, and laugh. He can’t stop or he’ll snap. He can’t stop moving, checking his burger more times than necessary. What’s there to even check? He’ll eat anything right now. He fidgets and squirms in his seat and just as Sam hadn’t noticed in the car, Cas doesn’t seem to notice now. His mouth keeps moving, filling the air with more words even when he’s in danger of choking on all of the food he’s taking in. Why is he so god damn hungry? 

“I ain’t exactly a role model,” Dean says. If he keeps talking, he’s going to end up spilling his heart onto the table and floor of this diner. He shoves more food into his mouth. 

“It’s not true,” Cas says seriously, his blue eyes steady on Dean. His jaw is set and there is no room for argument. Dean doesn’t know where to look or where to run.   
The Mark on his arm reminds him of the murder that he’s actually hungry for. The food isn’t filling him because it’s not what he craves. He’s reminded just how awful of a role model he is by the strong pull he feels to murder everyone in the diner but his angel. He’ll stick to food. He can control this. He can keep moving, keep talking, keep eating and he’ll stay in control.  
  
“How are you, Dean?” Cas asks.  
  
“Fine,” Dean lies. He’s fucking fine. He’s fantastic. He’s never been better. He’s fine. Stop asking. He’s fine. He keeps repeating the words in his head, reminding himself how fine he is. 

It’s on the floor of a house that the words stop, after glass has been crashed over his head. Sam, Cas, and Claire are outside. Dean is alone when the words stop. Rage and nightmares wash over him like eucalyptus steam at a spa. He breathes it in and it feels like serenity. 

“You guys, you don’t want to do this,” Dean warns, but his own voice sounds far away. 

He falls to his knees in a sea of blood. The bodies of the ones he’s slain lay about him, covering this battlefield. Angry slashes adorn their bodies and clothing, red staining them, making them. The knife in his hand drips onto the floor. 

A scream wakes Dean. He looks up to find Castiel, his arms wrapped protectively around his vessel’s daughter. She was who he had been protecting. At first. That’s what this had all been about in the beginning. When did it turn into a slaughter? It had to turn into this. Dean craved this. He still craves it. There’s just no one left. 

“Dean!” Sam. “Tell me you had to do this!” Sam’s hands are warm as he grips the sides of Dean’s chilled face. 

“I didn’t,” Dean admits. “I didn’t need to.” He wanted to. So badly it hurt. 

“Tell me it was them or you!” Sam begs. His hands are all that’s keeping Dean up now. 

There is no cure for the Mark. There is no cure for Dean. His story started as a happy one. He was loved by two parents and gifted with a little brother. He had wanted to be a fireman and loved peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He was supposed to get good grades, find a girl, maybe go to college, have an apple pie life. He was supposed to go home to his parents’ house every weekend for dinner.

He was supposed to, but here he is on the floor of a house that belongs to bad men. They are his victims, their bodies still warm as their blood leaks out of them. They weren’t even the monsters he had been raised to kill after his mother died, his grades failed, he dropped out, fell in love with a man who can never know, and ran away from his picket-fenced life. They were humans with a bad agenda. Not his problem, but certainly an easy kill. 

Dean doesn’t deserve anything. Not his brother, who refuses to stop his search for a cure. Not his guardian angel. Not Donna. He didn’t deserve to leave for a weekend, enjoying his time away gossiping and relaxing. She would never look at him the same if she knew what he’d just done. The look of worry she had when she’d seen the Mark melts together with Sam’s and Cas’ as Dean loses consciousness in the front seat of the Impala, Cas’ distressed voice over his shoulder the last thing he hears. 


	5. Chapter 5

Dean stares at his phone. Months of unanswered phone calls and texts glare at him. He flips his phone up into the air above where he’s stretched out on his bed and catches it before it lands on his face. He looks again. They haven’t gone away and they remain unanswered. He sighs, his cheeks puffing out as he lets his hands fall to his chest. 

It’s been a rough year. 

Dean taps Donna’s name and holds his phone to his ear, guilt running rampant through him as he listens to the phone connect and ring. The last time he had seen her was their one year friendaversary almost a full year ago. The last time they had spoken, they had both been happy and promising future visits and friendship. 

“Dean!” Donna answers. There’s no hint of anger or blame in her bubbly voice. She sounds like she spoke with him just the other day instead of to his voicemail about six hundred times. 

“Hey, Donna,” Dean smiles sadly, wiping his free hand over his face. 

“Uh oh, what’s wrong?” She asks as if she’s in the room and can see his smile falter. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Dean manages, his chest tight. The whole story is on the tip of his tongue as one gigantic excuse, but she doesn’t need to hear it. He swallows it down and clenches his jaw. 

“I figured we were both just busy. It’s been a big year,” Donna says easily, letting him off the hook. “There’s been budget cuts in Stillwater so I got transferred out to Larsen County instead. What a move that was, but I’m getting comfortable.” She goes on and Dean relaxes as she does. They’re still friends. “What about you?” 

“So many budget cuts,” Dean shakes his head and clucks his tongue. “I can’t believe it. They want to transfer me  _ again _ . Can you believe it? They move me just about every damn week.” She laughs and he drops the joke. “A lot has happened. I’m just… glad it’s over. I mean, it’ll never be over, but that part feels packed away and sealed, ya know?” 

“Yeah,” Donna says understandingly. “Did you tell him yet?”

Dean sucks in his breath. Did he tell Cas he’s in love with him and has been for years and years? No. He beat him within an inch of his life, though. He looked into his eyes as he held an angel blade above his head and begged Cas to leave him alone in the most aggressive way he could. If there had ever been a chance, Dean had ruined it. 

_ “Everyone you love could be long dead. Everyone except me. I’m the one who will have to watch you murder the world.” _ Dean closes his eyes shut as Cas’ words run through his head again. Cas’ beautiful face, covered with blood where Dean had smashed it. Cas’ bleeding lips uttering,  _ “Dean, please. _ ” 

Tears start to run down Dean’s cheeks as he fights the images in his head. There’s no hope for him after that. He doesn’t deserve to even be alive still. Cas has forgiven him, but Dean still can’t. 

Cas, who’s chained to the floor in the library with sigiled cuffs, cringing and possibly dying under Rowena’s spell. Cas, who might be dying because Dean wasn’t there to protect him when he needed him. He wasn’t there. 

“Dean?” Donna’s voice comes through the phone. 

He shuts his eyes tight and clears his throat. “No. That’s not happening any time soon.” He hears her voice, but he can’t make out the words anymore. The world feels far away as Dean continues to cry. “Sorry, Sam’s calling me,” Dean lies, his voice husky. “Call soon?” 

“You betcha. Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s good hearin’ your voice.” The words are like a hug and Dean breathes out a slice of his guilt. He nods even though she can’t see him. 

“You too, Donna,” he manages before ending the call. 

Dean lets his arms fall and lets go of his phone, letting it fall to the floor with a thud before he brings his hands back to his face. He wants to curl in on himself, but he stays where he is. There’s no stopping the steady tears that have started in his silent sobbing, grieving the moments he can’t take back and can’t apologize for. 

“Okay,” Dean tells himself, pulling himself together and clearing his throat. He has Cas back. He’s alive… for now. Dean splashes water on his face before pressing a dry towel to his skin. He breathes into it, promising himself he will try to fix everything he had broken. 

Dean walks out to the library to find Sam already sitting in front of his computer. Cas is still chained, stuck at the next table over for fear that the spell Rowena put on him will make him attack them. He’s chained just out of reach of Sam’s table. Dean wants to grab his laptop and sit next to his angel. He wants to wrap his arms around him, holding him close until the end of the spell or the end of time, whichever comes first. 

He takes his seat opposite Sam. Technically, he’s still next to Cas, just at a different table. The research to find Rowena and the Darkness resumes. Cas continues to sweat and shiver under his thick blanket, teeth clenched tight. 

It feels almost back to normal. The focus is off of Dean. Conversation rolls without secretive glances around the room. Everyone is included, though Cas is worse for wear. The room is breathable without the Mark plastered to his arm. 

“I hate to point this out,” Sam sighs, looking between Dean and Cas. Dean’s heart rate spikes, ready to confess to it all and deny it. He didn’t know his frequent glances were that noticeable. He had hoped no one could tell. He’s going to be sick. The room is too hot and there are no windows. Why are there no windows? The bunker is underground. No windows in this stifling hot building that seems to be running out of air. “But you both know who we might  _ need _ to help with the Darkness,” Sam finishes. 

Dean exhales. “Don’t even say it,” Dean warns his brother as he forces himself to continue the rather normal conversation to keep his eyes off of the angel. 

“He was God’s scribe. He did hear about everything.” 

“That’s just like saying it.” Dean’s stomach flips as he thinks about the last time he saw God’s scribe. Chained to a chair in their torture room, his face bloodied by Dean’s fists. Deep cuts in his skin that had shone with pure light as Dean had sliced into him. 

_ “Go darker!” _ Metatron had teased, not knowing just how far Dean would go. His smile had faded and by the time Cas had removed him, he wasn’t teasing anymore. There was no smile left under the torn skin. 

Cas starts to shake, his teeth audibly crashing together as he growls and jerks in his seat. Dean turns, ready to leap out of his chair, but it sounds like Cas is becoming Rowena’s attack dog again. He can’t leap out of his seat and soothe Cas. He has to watch from his just-out-of-reach seat. 

“Cas, you alright pal?” Dean asks, his hands clenched to keep him from reaching out. 

“It’s the spell,” Cas manages through his teeth. The moment subsides, allowing everyone to breathe. Dean has to move. He has to find an excuse to walk closer to him. He needs to be nearer to him. 

Dean finds busy work to do off of his computer. He looks through the library shelves, goes to the kitchen to grab a drink, and walks aimlessly as Sam talks to Cas and Dean. 

“Metatron is also off the grid,” Sam continues to work. “He stole your car in Blaine, Missouri, right?” Sam looks to Cas who mumbles a small “yeah.” Sam goes back to his computer, seemingly oblivious to Dean hovering by the angel. “Yeah. No accidents, incidents, violations, or remotely interesting involving a crappy ‘78 Continental Mark V.” 

“You think it’s crappy?” Cas looks between the two brothers and Sam looks at Dean for help. Dean looks at his pathetic lump of an angel, bundled up and learning that his ugly-as-sin car is what the Winchesters would define as crappy. 

“Eye of the beholder,” Dean says, nodding to Cas. Dean takes his seat again and allows the conversation to continue. It doesn’t go far. 

“Cas?” Sam asks, looking over at him, though Dean misses the look as he’s too busy taking him in. He looks sickly and weak, and all Dean wants to do is take care of him. He wants to hold him while he wipes the sweat from his brow and lets him rest his head on Dean’s chest. Cas looks up helplessly, lost in the conversation. 

“Places Metatron might hang out,” Dean supplies. 

“Um. I mean, he loves waffles,” Cas tries. “You could try places that have those.” 

“Okay, so every restaurant in the entire country,” Dean says sarcastically. Their witch and darkness hunt became an angel hunt which became a car chase with a side of waffle house locating. Dean would be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful for the lull of information that was keeping him planted at home instead of out slaying monsters. 

Cas begins to seize, his entire body contracting and jerking as he breathes and snarls through his clenched teeth. His eyes are shut tight and terror rips through Dean as he watches. 

“Cas?” Dean feels panic rising in his throat as he watches Cas fall to the floor, his eyes open but unseeing. “Cas? Cas, hey!” Dean doesn’t know when he left his chair, but he’s on the floor by his angel’s side now. Dean’s hands clutch desperately at Cas as he watches his eyes roll back in his head, the blue disappearing before the lids finally shut. “Cas!” Dean begs. 

Dean’s throat closes as Cas goes still. His chest is moving but barely, his skin hot to touch. He’s not okay. Dean gently eases Cas onto his back and leans in close. He can feel Cas’ breath on his cheek and his pulse under his fingers. 

“Dean?” Sam asks behind him. 

“He’s out cold,” Dean says, his voice steady even as his hands shake. He pushes Cas’ damp hair away from his forehead, letting his fingers linger at Cas’ temple. If he had the abilities of an angel, this touch is all it would take to heal him. This touch would unweave the spell from his being and wake him. 

But Dean’s touch is useless. He draws his hand away, his fingers curling into his palm. 

He watches as Cas’ eyes flutter open. His hand hovers at Cas’ shoulder as Sam asks the dumbest question in the world: “are you okay?” 

“Relative to what?” Cas answers, breathing heavily as he comes to. 

“You know where you are? What’s the date?” Dean asks, his hand finally landing on Cas’ shoulder and gripping gently. He could have lost him. He could still lose him. He wants to do more than hold his shoulder, but this will have to do. 

“Earth,” Cas says, his eyes steady on Dean’s. “Several billion years from the beginning.” 

Sam helps Dean lift Cas from the floor. As soon as he’s upright and back in his chair, Dean grabs his blanket from the floor and drapes it around his angel’s shoulders. It’s not much, but it’s the only thing he can offer. He lets his hand linger again, this time on his shoulder with a blanket, trenchcoat, suit coat, and dress shirt between the pads of his fingers and Cas’ skin, but it still feels magnetic and addictive. 

The touch Dean needs to heal after everything the Mark had done to him isn’t the whispered memories of the Darkness where she stole the Mark from his arm. It helped, but it wasn’t the one he needed to forgive himself. He’s face to face with self-forgiveness when he finds Cas. He managed to break free of the cuffs and out of the bunker. 

Dean interrupts Rowena’s attack dog of an angel before Sam and Rowena. It doesn’t matter how he’d gotten out. It doesn’t fully matter to Dean that he’s just saved a poor girl who would have died at Cas’ hand had he not shown up at that precise moment. The important part to Dean is that instead of that girl, Cas has his eyes on him. Cas grips Dean by the jacket and throws him. 

Crates and boxes break around Dean as he puts his arms up to protect himself. He’s lifted again and thrown into a fence. He grunts as he lands, but doesn’t have time to sit up himself. Cas grabs him and pulls him up just enough to punch him. 

He’s on his knees before his angel being beaten to a pulp. Two specific memories come to mind as the punches continue to come. The first is when this had happened what felt like centuries ago. In a crypt, ordered by a douchebag with wings, Cas had stood much like this as Dean had pleaded for his life. The second was not that long ago when their positions had been reversed. Dean slamming his fists into Cas, throwing him into stacks of books and tables. The only difference between the three fights is that the current one is the only one where an angel blade was not involved. 

The current beating stops with a word from Rowena’s sudden appearance. Three more words and Cas begins to shake violently. He’s either dying or the spell is retreating. Fear strikes through Dean’s heart as he watches.  
  
Dean swallows the blood and spit in his mouth as he watches Cas fall to the ground before him. 

“Cas?” Dean doesn’t bother trying to keep the desperation out of his voice now. “Hey!” He lifts Cas’ head in his hand as his angel remains entirely limp. Dean’s heart stops and his stomach turns and then… 

Cas opens his eyes slowly. They’re clear and he looks exhausted and vaguely confused as to why Dean is cradling his face so tenderly. 

“Come on,” Dean says, helping Cas up. Once he’s up, Dean keeps his hands on Cas’ face, a gentle caress to sustain him in place of a soft kiss. Their eyes meet and lock and time seems to pass slower. It feels as though Dean sits there for eons with his angel, the blows he’s just taken healing his soul and paving the way for his own forgiveness. Dean’s thumb runs gently over Cas’ cheek before Rowena casts a new spell and the moment is lost to chaos as she locks them in so she can get away. 

“Dean, I... there aren’t words—” 

“You’re right,” Dean cuts Cas’ apology off. “There aren’t words, Cas. That’s ‘cause there’s no need. You were under a spell. It’s fine.” Dean picks up his ice pack and presses into his bruises and cuts.  
  
The case continues. The witch they’d hunted is gone. The next item on their to-do list is capture the Darkness. Dean listens to Sam reassure Cas that getting him back was worth it, but Sam can’t say it all because he doesn’t know it all. If they had lost Cas, Dean doesn’t know what would have happened to him. He can’t imagine a world without Cas at his side. 

Dean removes the ice again and touches his lip gingerly. It still stings. He winces, but is glad for the pain. 

“Dean, I can fix that,” Cas says, standing and reaching across the table. 

“No, no, no,” Dean puts a hand up between them, freezing Cas. “No, no. It’s fine, Cas. Besides, I had it comin’.”  
  
Their eyes connect and Dean dares Cas to tell him otherwise. Cas pleads silently, but Dean doesn’t budge. He needs this pain to forgive himself for what he did. As Cas sits, Dean turns away and presses the ice back into his face. Relief spreads through him, releasing his heart and lungs. He can finally breathe. 


	6. Chapter 6

When Dean’s phone rings and he sees Donna’s name displayed, he can’t help but feel just a little happier. “Well I’ll be damned,” Dean says before picking it up. “Donna! What’s shakin’?”

“Hiya Dean! I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time,” Donna answers brightly.

“Fat-sucker Donna?” Sam asks. Mild anger rolls through Dean at the unintentional insult. He waves Sam off and looks away. He doesn’t want that stupid nickname to stick to her. Sam never had the chance to become her friend like Dean had. To Sam, Donna was still just some random cop that they worked with twice. She had the misfortune to be part of the pishtaco case. Dean couldn’t see her like that anymore. They were friends. She cared about him. He’d braided her hair and let her paint his toenails. Donna was what Dean had always wanted in a best friend. 

“So, uh. I might have a case for you two. Strange things are goin’ on round here in Cottage Grove. Eh. We have a murder case… With a killer bunny.”

“What do you mean _ killer bunny _?” Dean asks. 

“Well, we can’t identify the killer on account we’re still tryin’ to get him into custody. It screams strange, though, that’s for darn sure. Does this sound like your kind of case?” 

“Sure does. We’ll be there as soon as we can. Hold tight.”

“Thanks, Dean.” He can hear her smile through the phone before he hangs up. 

“What’s up?” Sam asks as Dean turns back around to face his brother. 

“We’ve got a case in Minnesota,” Dean informs him before walking to his room to grab his FBI suit. “Get packed, Sammy!” 

“What? What’s the case?”

“Just get your g man suit and let’s go. No time to waste. There’s a killer bunny in lockup.” Dean smiles to himself as he says it. 

When they get in the car and Dean pulls onto the main road he turns down the music for a second and gives Sam a sideways glance. “Don’t call her that anymore, okay?”

“What?”

“Fat-spa Donna or fat-sucker Donna.” Dean shakes his head and gives his brother a warning glance. “I mean it.”

“Okay…” Sam says slowly, his eyebrows knit together. “Any reason why?”

“Her name is Donna. She’s going through a rough time and those nicknames,” Dean waves his hand vaguely, “aren’t helping.” 

“How would you know what kind of a time she’s having?” Sam asks suspiciously. 

“She’s my friend, alright?” Dean snaps.

“I thought we didn’t have friends.” 

“Look around, Sam. We have Cas. We have…” Dean chokes on Charlie’s name. They _had _ Charlie. He’d lost her. “We have Jody. And guess what? I have Donna.” 

“Okay,” Sam says, backing off. Dean nods once and turns the music back up, satisfied with standing up for his friend. 

Dean almost drives straight to Donna’s house but forces himself to pull over at a motel instead. They check-in, change into their suits, grab their badges, and get back in the car. Dean pulls up outside of the Larsen County police station and feels the giddiness that comes from visiting a good friend bubble up inside of him. 

“Psst, Sheriff,” Sam whispers as they walk into the room. Donna turns around and Dean watches her eyes light up when they find him. 

“You two are a sight for sore eyes!” Donna grins as she pulls them both in for a hug, forcing them both to stoop several inches. 

“You workin’ all ten thousand lakes now or..? This isn’t usually your beat.” Dean comments, worried about the station change. She’d mentioned something a few weeks ago, but she didn’t seem to be exaggerating. 

“Just Larsen County what with the cutbacks and all.” She shrugs, then brightens again. “For the most part, it’s been tater tots and lemon drops, except for this doozy. I mean when you get a call about a killer Easter Bunn you don’t know what to think.” 

“Well, you think crazy,” Dean agrees, nodding. 

“Guy’s real strong too. Lashed out at several officers. Took a whole team just to get him into custody, but that’s not the weirdest part.” She gives a conspiratorial look before going on in a lower voice. “Bunny head won’t come off.” 

“What do you mean?” Sam asks.

“Tried everything short of a chainsaw, but it’s really stuck.” Sam and Dean stay quiet, thinking of what it could possibly be and simultaneously running through their codex of monsters in their heads. “Who knows, could just have a big melon like my uncle Wally. But ever since I’ve seen what goes bump in the night, I’m not takin’ any chances.” 

“You did the right thing. For sure,” Sam reassures her as she nods. 

“Eh, maybe. Just not one hundred percent sure this is our kind of case. But, uh, if you’ve got a wild _ hare _.” Dean watches Donna’s face break into a grin as he tries and fails to contain his own. She starts to laugh as he asks, “See what I did there?” 

“Good to see you too,” Donna manages through her laughs. 

“What’d you got there, Sheriff?” a man with a mustache asks. Donna’s face falls as she turns to talk to him, so Dean’s does too. 

“Gentlemen, this is Officer Stover. He’s the lead on the case.” Donna says, standing to the side. Stover smiles at Sam and Dean waiting for them to introduce themselves. 

“Agents Elliot and Savage,” Sam says, gesturing to himself and Dean. 

“Nice tuh meetchya,” Stover says. “And please, call me Doug.” 

Donna clears her throat uncomfortably and Dean purses his lips, his brain doing a doubletake on the name. Doug. Like Donna’s ex, Doug? What was it with Officers in Minnesota named _ Doug _?

“These two fine fellas are going to be helpin’ us out with the ol’ hippity hop.” 

“Oh. We’re goin’ to need it. Not that Sheriff Hanscum isn’t doin’ a bang-up job.” Donna grimaces and looks anywhere but at Dean. “We’re lucky to have her,” Doug says with a dreamy smile. Holy obvious feelings, Batman. Dean watches as Donna gives Doug an uncomfortable smile. No one says anything as the questions in Dean’s mind pile up and the tension in the room builds. “Well, I better get back to it,” Doug announces awkwardly. 

“Uh-huh,” Dean grins, nodding slowly. 

Donna turns on him. “What?” 

“Hey, it’s none of our business, but it looks like somebody might have a crush,” Dean teases, pointing after Doug. Actually, it’s all of his business. He takes his role as friend very seriously, obviously. If she’s allowed to say things like _sounds like you were meant to be_, then he was allowed to point out when someone _very _discreetly has a crush on her. 

“I was born at night, Dean. Not last night,” Donna says, her eyes glaring as he begins to laugh. It feels good to be around her again. He’s free to laugh and make jokes and breathe. 

“What’s the deal? He seems nice.” Sam interjects as Dean composes himself. 

“He is!” Donna insists. “But he’s a cop… named _ Doug_. I mean clearly, I have a type, but no, thank you, ma’am. Won’t be once bitten, twice Doug’d.” 

“All right.” Dean pulls the reins up on the teasing. They drove through the night to get here in time to work on this killer bunny case. They had to get to work eventually. “Where’s the wascally wabbit?” 

“I’m going out,” Dean announces. 

“Where?” Sam asks, though he should know by now that there’s no use in asking. 

“Not sure yet. Maybe a bar. Maybe a strip-club.” Dean bounces his eyebrows and swings his keys around his finger before catching them again. Sam rolls his eyes, buying the lie. “Don’t wait up,” Dean calls over his shoulder as he leaves. 

He slides into his seat and sighs. Today was rough. It’s never easy dealing with the death of an innocent kid. They’d failed in getting the mask removed from the kid’s noggin in time. It was harder to deal with it when Dean had seen Donna’s face. She isn’t used to this. He hopes she’ll never be used to this. 

Dean makes his way to Donna’s house with one pitstop. Her living room windows are glowing as he pulls into her driveway and parks. Grabbing the grocery bag on the passenger seat, Dean gets out of the car and walks up to the front door. 

The look on her face as she had lit the bunny mask makes Dean’s stomach flip. He’s in the right place. She doesn’t deserve to spend this night alone. Dean knocks twice and lets his hand fall to his side. 

The door opens to reveal a pajama-clad Donna. Her hair is tied up in the messiest bun Dean has ever seen and her face brightens, but not by much. “Oh! Hiya, Dean,” she smiles. “What’re ya doin’ here?”

“I brought ice cream and hugs,” Dean offers, opening his arms. 

“Just what the doctor ordered,” Donna says, her face crumpling as she walks into his arms, pressing her face into his shoulder. He closes his arms around her and holds her as she starts to cry into him. 

“Okay, you step backward while I step forward and we can go inside,” Dean says into her hair. She nods and steps with him without letting go. Dean closes the door and drops the bag with the ice cream in it to wrap her more tightly against him. 

“You didn’t have to come,” Donna mumbles into his chest. She pulls away to look up into his face. 

“Yeah, I did,” Dean says as Donna wipes the tears from her face. 

“How do you do it?” she laughs humorlessly as she leads him further into the house. 

“Sometimes, I don’t know,” Dean answers honestly. Donna grabs two spoons from the drawer in the kitchen and perches herself on a stool at the counter. Dean takes the lid off of the ice cream and takes a spoon from her, taking his bite after her. 

“It was so fucked up.” A few more tears escape and she bats them away. She eyes the salt on the counter and pushes it away from herself before taking a second scoop. “I was so scared, Dean. One minute, he was a monster who was about to kill me and the next… he… he was just a kid, Dean.” 

“I know.” Dean clenches his jaw. He wishes he could take that moment away from her and protect her from all of the evil in the world, but she’s stronger than that. She can take care of herself. She wants to take care of herself. 

Neither of them say anything as they take alternating bites until Donna stops. “I broke my diet,” Donna mumbles.

“It’s a cheat day,” Dean reassures her. He’s not sure that’s what a cheat day is. He’s never gone on a diet in his life, but the words do the trick. 

“I think I’m done. How about you?” she asks, setting her spoon down. Dean takes it and brings both spoons to the sink before throwing the ice cream into the freezer. 

“What do you need?” Dean leans against the counter. 

“Is it okay if I say I don’t know?” Donna hugs her arms around her knees. Dean nods and turns around to grab two glasses and fills them with water. He passes one to her and waits for instructions. “Are you staying tonight?”

“I’m stayin’ till you kick me out,” Dean promises. Donna smiles a little. “Come here.” Donna hops off her stool and goes back to Dean, leaning against the counter next to him and pressing into his side. 

“Did you even bother to bring your pajamas?” Donna asks after a moment.

“No. I’ll just sleep in my jeans.” 

“Men are so gross.” Donna laughs a little and Dean feels himself smile. 

Dean follows Donna to the living room and lays down on the couch he slept on a year ago. Donna throws a blanket over him and takes her spot on the other couch. 

“Dean?” 

“Yeah?” 

Dean listens as she frees her arm from the blankets and reaches toward him. He links their pinkies between the couches as a small touch of reassurance and strength. 

“I didn’t know it would hurt so much,” Donna confesses in the dark.

“It’s good that it does, though,” Dean sighs. “There’s a problem when it doesn’t.”

“Are you upset, then?” 

“Yeah.” Memories choke him as he looks into the dark. The innocent kid he’d shot who had begged for his life. He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t deserve to be born into the monster family. He was just a kid. Dean feels a tear slide down his cheek, but he ignores it. 

They each take their hands back as they fall silent again, the connection enough to keep them both from letting their thoughts take over. They’re supported. They’re loved. 

“Thanks, Dean,” Donna breathes sleepily before snoring softly. The corners of Dean’s lips tug up at the sound and he finally lets himself sleep. 

The case wrapped up, the killer bunny, jester, clown, and deer all stopped, Dean looks out the window at his car parked at the curb. It’s time to leave. Time to go back to a table piled high with ancient Aramaic that will remain unreadable and probably unhelpful. Dean sighs and walks over to the doorway where Sam is waiting for him. 

“Time we gotta get out of here,” Sam says as Donna makes her way over.  
  
“Here’s hoping something less murderous brings you back to Minnesota. Like Prince… or Cheese Curd Fest!” Donna grins at Dean, the hope radiating off of her like heat from the sun.  
  
“You had me at curd.” Dean smiles, regretting the goodbye as it happens.  
  
“I… I don’t know how you two do this. Day in, day out, figuring out who’s possessed, who isn’t. Your life’s one big poop storm isn’t it?” Donna’s smile dips as she catches onto Dean’s reluctance to go back. For him, this case was a breath of fresh air and she can feel it. While it was big for her, this was a walk in the park for them. He was trying to find God’s sister. She was hunting down haunted costumes. 

“Spoken like a true hunter.” Dean watches her face split into a wide smile. They’d talked about it before, what, a year ago? But, this felt more real. Telling her she’s a hunter on the wrap-up rather than over lunch. 

“Really?’” Donna squeaks. “Hunter?” Her big brown eyes bounce between Dean and Sam, looking for them to be telling her the truth, but maybe also waiting for them to pull the rug out from under her. There is no rug pulling. Before her stands only her very proud best friend. 

“Oh, yeah. I mean, with three cases under your belt, I think you earned it,” Sam nods. 

Donna throws her arms around Sam first with a small, “Yay!” Dean watches her excitement bubble over, his heart filled to the brim for her. When she releases Sam, she goes to Dean. 

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her tight. “There we go,” he smiles into her shoulder as she squeezes him. She lets go, taking a step back. Her eyes shine as she says her small goodbye. Dean walks out to the car and gets into the car, looking out the window up at the lit living room windows of the house. 

“What’s up?” Sam asks as he gets in, closing his door behind him. 

“Nothin’. Let’s go,” Dean says, shaking his head as he starts the car. His heart pulls, but their second-year friendaversary is coming up. He’ll see her soon. 

“So, how do you know Donna so well?” Sam asks after Dean pulls onto the highway. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, with the nickname—”

“The nickname wasn’t nice,” Dean interrupts before Sam can even finish the thought. 

“Okay, agreed, but when did you two become like… actual friends?” Sam asks, looking over at Dean. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.” 

“Like what? Am I not allowed to have friends? Is it impossible to think I could have a friend?” Coming clean about the spa day and the sleepover comes to Dean’s mind, but those days are close to his heart and not ready to be shared. It’s not the kind of thing he wants to be out in the world to be mocked or made fun of. “She’s good people.” 

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” 

“For the nickname and not seeing how important she was to you before,” Sam says quietly. Dean nods but doesn’t bother taking his eyes from the road to continue the conversation. The apology and acknowledgment are enough. 

When they park in the bunker’s garage, Sam rubs the sleep from his eyes and stumbles off to find his room. He’s too tired to pick up where they left off in the war room. They’d had a long talk in the car and he’d only slept for about an hour. He needed a few more winks and he’d be ready to go for his morning jog and annoy Dean out of his own sleep. 

Dean finds his way to his laptop, exhausted but needing to look something up before his dreams wipe it from his memory. He brings his laptop to his room and curls under his blankets, opening the laptop and typing out the best gift he could give to Donna: cheese curd fest.

The next one anywhere close to Minnesota is happening in Ellsworth, Wisconsin. There are two days of festivities and all of it looks perfect for him and Donna. There's cheese curds, live music, brewskies, a classic car show, pancake breakfast, and all kinds of things to buy and eat. 

Dean grins, knowing it’s going to be perfect. He looks up the best hotel in the area. None of that flickering one-star motel crap. One room with two queens charged to his newest credit card, Dean falls asleep with the confirmation page up. 


	7. Chapter 7

Dean plops down into a chair at the war room table and puts his feet up, crossing his ankles. Cas stops reading the ancient book he has in his hands and looks over at Dean. 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas lowers the book and straightens. His gaze makes Dean feel like his blood is too hot. 

“Anything?” Dean asks, clearing his throat and nodding toward the piles of scrolls in ancient Aramaic. Cas shakes his head and makes a face. He looks disappointed. “We’ll just have to keep looking.”

“We’re going to run out of time. She’s not going to remain a child forever. She may well have aged up by now and we’re just too far behind to even bother,” Cas huffs. “There’s nothing about her anywhere.”

“It’s okay, Cas. We’ll keep looking. Keep fighting. It’s not the—”

“End of the world? That’s exactly what it is, Dean.” Cas hangs his head. 

“Where’s Sam?” Dean asks, taking his feet off the table and sitting up. 

“He’s finding a cipher to use.” 

The floor is open. Sam is gone. Cas is standing there, just staring at Dean. All he has to say is that he appreciates him. All Dean has to say is how much Cas means to him and that maybe he’s in love. Not maybe. Just tell him. 

Dean opens his mouth and—

“So get this,” Sam says as he walks into the room. Dean clamps his mouth shut and watches as Sam and Cas bend over the cipher and mass of documents that Dean is no help with. Cas’ tie hangs down, brushing the table as he reads. 

Dean looks up at the ceiling, holding his breath as he spins slowly in the chair. Cas’ voice washes over him. The ancient language meaning nothing while the voice that reads it means everything. They continue to work, and eventually, Dean gets up and walks out of the room. 

He can’t help with deciphering anything. All he can do is be in the way and have no clue how to help track down or defeat the Darkness. He’s useless right now. 

Dean stretches out on his bed and opens his laptop. The confirmation page for the hotel he booked is still up. He glances at his phone before dialing Donna. 

“Hiya, Dean!” 

“Hey, Donna,” Dean grins. “Are you busy in, say, a week?” 

“Why?” Donna asks suspiciously, though her voice gives away her own smile. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot our second friendaversary is coming up!” Dean laughs as Donna squeals. “Alright, alright!”

“I didn’t plan anything yet this year.”

“That’s because I did. Pack your bags. We’re going to Cheese Curd Fest!” 

“What?!” Donna’s excitement rings through Dean’s ears. “Shut the front door!”

“I’ll pick you up on Thursday night, okay?” 

“Sounds great, Dean. See you then!” 

Dean finishes packing his bag for his trip and walks out to the garage, loading up his stuff and grabbing the empty cooler. He walks into the bunker, checking off in his head what he needs for his trip. Bag is packed. Hotel is booked. He has the correct fake cards with him. Last thing he needs is a cooler full of ice, beer, and peanut M&Ms and he’s ready to go. 

Dean walks into the kitchen and starts filling the cooler when Sam walks in. 

“Where are you going?” Sam asks, stopping with his hand on the pot of coffee. 

“Out. I’m not doing any good sitting ducks while you two nerd out and we have no other leads.” Dean shrugs. “I’ll be back on Sunday.” 

“You do realize it’s Thursday right now, right?” Sam looks worried. Dean has had enough of that look to last him a lifetime. He avoids Sam’s eyes as he pulls a few beer bottles from the fridge and sticks them into the ice. 

“Yes, Sammy. I know how to read the calendar. Where are the M&Ms?” 

“Where are you going?” Sam tries again as he reaches into the cabinet and tosses Dean the candy. 

“Thanks,” Dean says when he catches them. “Cheese Curd Fest is this weekend.” 

“Since when do you go to _ cheese curd fest _?” Sam smiles, clearly amused. 

“Since I was invited.” Dean grabs one bottle of water to finish off the cooler and looks up at his brother. “See you Sunday. Call me if it’s important.” 

“Wait, Dean.” Sam follows Dean out of the kitchen and through the bunker. “What if we need you?”

“You haven’t needed me for the past week. I’m no good with that translating shit you two do so well. If you do need me, I have my phone.” Dean holds up his cell before shoving it into his pocket again. 

“Have a good time, Dean,” Sam says, finally giving in at the door of the garage. Dean nods as he gets into the car. 

Sam and Cas are in good hands and more than occupied. The pile they started with only has a small dent in it. What they’ve read and ditched is in a box under the table. Dean had tried to help briefly but got in the way of their ‘process’. A short weekend away is the perfect break. 

Dean rolls down his window and cranks the volume knob, blasting AC/DC as he leans into the gas. Dean sings along, letting the loud music drown out his awful singing. He wishes he were better, but he’s stuck with the voice he’s got. He drums his hands on the wheel as he drives. The freedom to play his music as loud as he wants and sing at top volume makes the long drive a short one. 

“Long time no see,” Donna greets Dean with a hug. “What’s it been? A week?” 

“Just about,” Dean laughs. “Good to see you.” 

“Where are you comin’ from?” Donna asks as she grabs her bag and follows Dean back out to the car. Dean realizes that she knows the secrets close to Dean’s core, the name that Dean holds locked away in his heart, but not even the state that he lives in. 

“Oh, uh. Kansas.” Donna’s eyebrows shoot up. “Lebanon,” Dean supplies. That makes it worse. 

“Lebanon Kansas. That’s _nine _hours! Are you sure you want to drive again?”

“Well, I made it here in seven hours and we can make it to Wisconsin in a half-hour if I step on it.” Dean shrugs. Donna’s jaw drops and he laughs, shaking his head as he gets in the car. “Get in. We have a hotel to get to.” 

“You really went all out, didn’t’cha?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Dean nods exaggeratedly. 

“You betcha,” Donna says with him. She erupts with laughter as he pulls out of the driveway. 

“So, how did it go with Doug?” Dean asks after the laughter dies down. Donna fixes him with a look and sighs, twisting her mouth this way and that. 

“I apologized to him,” she admits after a minute. “You two were right. I wasn’t bein’ fair.” 

“Uh-huh. And?” Dean gestures for her to keep going. 

“And nothin’!” 

“So you’re not thinking about him _ at all _.” Dean smiles as the silence stretches. “That was supposed to be a simple answer.”

“Well, what about you? Did you talk to _ him _ yet?” Donna shoots back. Dean goes red in the face before he can try to swallow down the blush. “Hah!” 

“Shut up. I’m getting to it, okay?” 

Getting to it. He’s been getting to it for too many years. It was on the tip of his tongue in the bunker. He could have said it so many times by now. He should have been saying it every single day because every day it was truer than the day before, but still, Dean is silent. 

“When do I meet this fella?” Donna asks teasingly, knowing she has Dean cornered now that his face is displaying his emotions very clearly. 

“Never.” Dean cracks a smile and she’s won. 

“Have you had dinner yet?” Dean asks as they get closer to their destination. He keeps his eyes on the signs, watching for his exit. 

“Nope.” Donna shakes her head. “What were you thinkin’?”

“Haven’t had pizza in a while.” Dean shrugs and glances over at her. She grins and nods.

Dean pulls off the main road and into a parking lot for a pizza place. “For here or to go?” Dean asks, looking over at Donna. 

“To go,” she says with a single nod. 

“Alright, hang tight.” 

Dean walks in, stretching his legs out and happy to stand after a long day in the car. Only about five minutes left and he’s at the hotel. Dean just finishes ordering the pizza when his phone rings. 

“Cas?” Dean answers, worry crawling up from deep inside. Something had to be wrong. 

“Dean.” There’s no more to the sentence and he sounds calm. Dean swallows the preemptive fear of imminent war and death. 

“What’s up, buddy?” Ugh. Why did he keep using that stupid word? He shuts his eyes tight, scrunching up his entire face in discomfort. 

“You’re not at the bunker.”

“I know that, Cas.” Silence stretches out between them and Dean wishes he could look into his eyes. His heart pounds as he waits for Cas to say anything. He just needs to hear his voice again. “Is everything okay?”

“Still no sign of her,” Cas reports. “I’ve lost faith that the answers are in these scrolls at all, but Sam wants to continue searching. I don’t know where else to look.”

“I don’t have an answer for you.” 

Dean’s mouth feels dry as he imagines Cas calling him just to hear his voice. His throat feels tight thinking of Cas wanting him there by his side. If only Cas could see him that way. 

“When will you be returning?” 

“I’ll be back on Sunday,” Dean promises. Part of him wants Cas to ask for him to come back now, just to hear him say it. He waits, holding the phone tighter. The line goes dead and Dean’s heart slams. He takes a deep breath and pockets his phone. 

When the pizza is done, Dean grabs it and heads back to the car, hoping that any sign of his feelings about the phone call are gone. Donna takes the box from him and inhales the steam with a satisfied smile before she gets back into the car. 

The hotel looks nicer in person than it had online. Dean walks with Donna through the large glass doors at the front. The floor is waxed marble. The ceiling is high with lights hanging down. There’s a fountain in the middle of the lobby, surrounded by a few couches and chairs. This place is much too nice for a hunter. He grins. 

“How can I help you?” the man behind the desk asks. 

“Checking in,” Dean says, pulling out his credit card and matching ID. 

“Just a moment.” The man looks up the information, gives Dean two room keys and a parking pass, and wishes them a good stay. 

Dean goes back to the car and avoids the valet parking, finding his way to the opposite lot and putting the parking pass on the dash. 

Dean grabs the bags and cooler as Donna is unwilling to unhand the massive pizza already in her possession. She follows him through the hallways as the two of them gawk at everything in sight. 

“Here’s our room, I guess,” Dean says, sliding the key in and pushing the door open. 

“Wowza.” 

Dean tosses his bag onto the far bed and Donna’s onto hers. He sets the cooler down at his feet and dives onto his bed, landing with a soft _puff_. He rolls over, grinning as he starfishes out on the plush comforter. Paradise. 

“This is so nice,” Donna groans from her bed. Dean lifts his head to look over at her. She’s face down in the pillows. 

“How are we going to eat the pizza if we never move again?” Dean looks over at the food on the desk on the other end of the room. Donna looks over her shoulder. 

“More for me.” Donna leaps off the bed and goes back to the pizza, beating Dean there and grabbing the first slice. 

Dean grabs his slice and opens the cooler as he chews. He pulls out two beers and pops their lids off before handing one to Donna. They clink their glasses with a small, “cheers!” said through two mouthfuls of pizza. 

As they eat, Dean pulls up the movie selection and scrolls through the movies. Donna supplies her opinion with, “mmm!” which Dean guesses means that’s a good movie she’s seen or wants to see and, “mm-mm…” which is obviously a ‘move on, mister’. 

“Have you seen this one?” Donna asks. The cursor is over Inside Out. 

“Missed it,” Dean admits. 

“Okay, we’re watching it after we get into our PJs.” Donna grins before taking a sip of her beer. Dean shoves the rest of his pizza into his mouth before grabbing his pajamas from his bag and going into the massive bathroom. 

Unfortunately, no matter how fancy a hotel is, it will never have anything on Sammy’s shampoos and various other hair products. Dean uses them all anyway, showering off the drive before slipping into his comfy pajamas. 

Dean looks into the mirror as he dries his hair. The steam keeps him from seeing himself and he’s tempted to doodle on the glass. He draws a heart, big and cartoony, in the center of the mirror. In the center, he drags his finger in looping cursive, C-a-s-t-i-e-l. Dean watches the letters disappear under his hand before he leaves. 

“Hey, hedgehog,” Donna laughs. Dean claps a hand over his hair. “It’s cute!” she protests, getting up and pulling his hand away from his head. 

Dean rolls his eyes but keeps his hand away from his head. She digs in her bag and grabs her PJs before disappearing into the bathroom. Dean flops down onto his bed and picks up his cell.

“Just call me,” Dean whispers to his phone, holding it over his face so he can watch the display screen not light up. “Please, Cas.”

When nothing happens, Dean drops his phone onto his chest and sighs. He’s pathetic. He’s hopelessly in love with an angel. It sounds romantic put like that, which just makes it worse. 

His phone vibrates and he picks it up quickly. 

Words With Friends invitation from Continental78. 

“Really, Cas?” Dean laughs. Impala67 accepts. Dean looks at the board and his tiles. The first word played by Cas is _home. _ Dean’s stomach flips as he drags his own l, o, and v onto the end of the word. He hesitates, his finger ready to press play, but moves to clear the board instead. He spells out _hell _and kicks himself. He can’t even play the word love in case Cas reads into it. He desperately wants Cas to read into it. 

Dean waits, holding his breath as he watches his screen. Cas uses one of his l’s to spell _long _ . Dean adds the _ing _and practically throws his phone across the room after he presses play. He curls up, pressing his face into his pillow and groans. 


	8. Chapter 8

Donna walks out of the bathroom with her damp hair tied up. A smirk on her lips, she looks like she has a secret. Dean watches her with suspicion as she plops down on her bed and stretches out. 

“What?” he finally asks. 

“Did you draw on the mirror in the bathroom?” Dean’s stomach flips and he clenches his jaw. He thought he’d wiped away his doodle. 

“No. Why?” he lies. 

“Strangest thing. I got out of the shower and the mirror was all fogged up.” Donna pauses for dramatic effect and it’s working. “Do you know what I saw?”

“No,” Dean lies again, his hands tight on the blanket. 

“A big fat heart with a name inside. You know, I didn’t think Castiel was such a popular name.” Dean buries his face in the pillow and curses. “You’re a big teddy bear, aren’t you Dean Winchester?” 

“Shut up,” Dean warns, his voice still muffled by the pillow. 

“Are you blushing?” Donna asks, joy filling her voice. 

Dean doesn’t answer, knowing full well that while his face doesn’t turn as red as a tomato, the pink in his cheeks is too big a giveaway. He doesn’t blush. He’s not a teddy bear. He’s a hunter and a soldier. 

“Yes,” Dean admits after the silence has drawn out long enough. Donna laughs gently. 

He hears her pick up the remote for the tv and the movie starts. He turns over and spots his phone on the ground a few feet away. The screen is lit with one notification. He tears his eyes away and looks up at the tv, pressing himself into the plush bedding. 

The movie is barely started, a small family driving into San Francisco, when Donna asks, “What’s the farthest you’ve traveled? Or craziest place you’ve been?” 

Without thinking, Dean answers, “Probably Purgatory? I don’t know if that’s farther away than Hell is, but it’s a lot more free range so definitely crazier. Heaven was insane, but that was just one fucked up day.” He turns to look over at Donna whose jaw has dropped slightly. “I mean...” Dean clears his throat awkwardly. “I went to Scotland once.” 

“You have not been to all of those places.” Donna tosses a pillow at him and he catches it. 

“I have. I don’t recommend it. Where have you been?” Dean throws the pillow back at her. 

“Haven’t really gone anywhere,” she admits quietly. “Homegrown Minnesotan. I’ve been here for Cheese Curd Fest a few times. Doug was supposed to take us to France on our honeymoon, but…” she trails off. “Better that I explore the world with someone who loves me, right?” 

“Cheers,” Dean nods, raising his beer to her and taking a sip. “Fuck him.”

“Already did that, unfortunately.” Dean almost chokes on his beer and looks over at her. When their eyes meet, they burst out laughing together. 

As Dean watches the movie, his insides turn. This little girl has all of her brain being run by Joy to the point that when Joy leaves, her life is thrown into chaos. Dean imagines his own Joy, a circle drawn around her in salt. Fear and Anger run his brain, dictating every move. Sadness stands guard of the circle, talking down to Joy. Whenever Dean’s Joy toes the salt circle line, Anger plays a clip from the past, usually one starring his father. 

“Who would run your brain?” Dean asks, though he’s sure he knows the answer. 

“Joy!” Donna grins. “Of course! Why?”

“No reason,” Dean lies, his hands balling the blankets into his fists. 

“No, tell me,” Donna insists. Her eyes are unteasing and shining with genuine interest. 

“Do you think everyone is?” Dean can’t look at her. He keeps his eyes on the animated adventure that’s tearing apart his heart. 

“No.” She’s quiet for a moment before she asks, “Who runs your noodle?”

Dean clenches his jaw. 

“Dean?” Donna presses, pulling his gaze from the tv. 

“Maybe Fear,” Dean says softly.

“You’re the bravest person I know.” It’s supposed to be reassuring. Dean isn’t reassured. 

His entire life has been ruled by the fear of losing Sam and failing his mission of keeping his baby brother safe. He feared for himself and his brother every time his father drank too much. Fear of disappointing anyone and everyone in his life remains the most prominent fear, though. 

“I’m not brave,” Dean sighs. 

“M&M me,” Donna says, turning toward Dean and opening her mouth. He digs in the bag and grabs a few. She laughs, keeping her mouth open as Dean aims. One blue one makes it into her mouth to both of their surprise. 

“Wait,” Dean orders her as she starts to move. “Got three more.” She stays still as one bounces off her tooth and the last two land in her mouth again. 

Dean tosses one up in the air for himself and it hits him in cheek. 

“And you were doin’ so well,” Donna chides as Dean picks up the offending M&M from his bed. 

“I know.” Dean lays back on his pillows again. “Are you going to give Doug a chance?” 

“We’re back on this, are we?” Donna plops down, lying on her stomach. 

“Well, you like him don’t you?” Dean waits for her to nod before continuing. “He obviously likes you. What’s the problem besides his cursed name?” 

“Well, he did give me permission to call him by his middle name.” Donna makes a face. “_ Lonnie _.”

“Eugh, no!” Dean matches her facial expression, scrunching up his nose and frowning. “Sticking with Doug, then?”

“Is there really any other choice?” 

“Apparently not.” Dean grins mischievously. “Oh, _ Lonnie _!” Dean mock orgasms, throwing his head back in fake ecstasy. 

“Shut up!” Donna throws her pillow before following it over to his bed to hit him playfully. “No!”

“_ Lonnie _!” Dean continues, his laughter mixing with Donna’s as she beats him with her pillow. 

“His name is Doug!” Donna says over Dean’s fake moaning and laughter. 

“So, you gunna ask him out?” Dean raises an eyebrow and grins when she pauses, the pillow lifted above her head. She meets his eye and smirks. 

“I suppose I should,” Donna agrees, lowering the pillow. “When are you going to ask your angel out then?”

“When I’ve lost my senses because of him,” Dean sighs. “Sit up. I’ve been practicing so you can have a better braid this time.”

Donna gasps and grins, sitting up and pulling her hair out of its tie. She sits with her back to Dean and waits for him to start working on her hair before she says, “Of course, this means I have to paint your nails too.”

“My toes,” Dean reminds her. He twists her hair into a tight braid tying it off before sitting back to admire his work. Done sober and with practice, the braid actually looks decent. 

“Thank you,” Donna says, pulling the braid out to the side for inspection. “You _ have _ been practicing.” Dean watches as she moves off the bed, probably thinking she’s being stealthy as she reaches into her bag for the nail polish. “On what exactly?” Donna asks.

“Hmm?” Dean looks down at her where she’s now on the floor rifling through her bag. 

“What have you been practicing braiding on? Sam?” She grins at the idea and Dean laughs, shaking his head. 

“Uh, rope. I had to tie some anyway.” He shrugs and Donna bursts out laughing. 

“Pick a color,” Donna orders, spinning around and holding out purple and blue. 

“You can paint my toes.” Dean gives her a warning look as he picks the blue. The blue that she has no idea is making his heart race and his breath catch. A blue that seems oddly matched to an angel’s eyes that hold the sky and the oceans all at once. Dean holds up the blue polish wishing all of that could be contained in a bottle for him to carry around and paint onto himself, but that kind of blue is special, limited, ethereal. 

Donna plucks the bottle out of his hand and taps his knee twice. He lifts his leg, giving her his foot.

“Can I paint your nails?” Dean asks, watching her carefully brush the blue onto his nails. 

“You betcha! I’ll take purple.” 

“Truth or dare?” Dean asks, peering over his knees at Donna. She stops painting for a moment to think. 

“Truth.” 

“What’s your guilty pleasure?” Dean hugs his arms around his legs, resting his chin on his knees. 

“Is it really guilty if I don’t give a hoot if anyone knows?” Donna laughs. “Maybe Real Housewives or Dr. Sexy.”

“You like Dr. Sexy too?” Dean asks before he can stop himself. Donna looks up quickly. “I mean, you like Dr. Sexy?” 

“I guess I don’t have to ask what your guilty pleasure is.” Amusement gleams in her eyes. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Dean says confidently.

“How did you know you were in love?” 

Dean’s stomach flips and he nearly chokes. “Hard hitting questions right off the bat, huh?” 

“You betcha,” Donna laughs. “Hold still or there’ll be paint all over your feet,” she warns him as he squirms. He settles and tries to think back. 

“How did I know I was in love?” Dean asks her question out loud as he mulls it over. “I knew when I was willing to give up my belief in nothing to pray to him. That, I think, was the first moment I knew I was in love and not just… wanting… him… I knew I was in trouble the first moment we met. I knew that I ached when he wasn’t in the room when I’d gone my whole life without feeling like that before I’d met him. And then I prayed. I prayed for the first time since I’d given up on God as a fucking kid.” 

Dean forces himself to stop talking and shrugs like nothing he just said holds any weight, though it's the heaviest thing he’s ever held. “Truth or dare?” 

“Dare.” 

“I dare you…” Dean thinks for a moment. “I dare you to swear,” he says when he realizes how clean her language is. She looks up from her painting job and raises an eyebrow like this is the worst dare she’s ever gotten in her life. “You don’t swear. I dare you to say one bad one.” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Donna asks. “Hell?”

“That’s a place, not a swear. Come on. Drop a fuck bomb.”

“I think the term is f-bomb,” Donna corrects him, laughing. “Okay, it’s no big deal.” She takes a deep breath and looks Dean in the eye as she squares her shoulders. It’s like she’s preparing herself for battle. “Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits.”

“Whoa!” Dean applauds. “Well done, George Carlin!” 

Her face splits into a grin. “Alright, that was the one and only, got it?” Dean nods and sits back against his pillows. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” 

“I dare you to call him and put it on speakerphone.” 

Dean chokes on the beer he had just taken a sip of and looks at his friend wide-eyed. She only smiles as he panics. Why should he panic? He’s called Cas tons of times.

“Is that it?” Dean asks suspiciously.

“Yep!” 

“Toss me my phone.” Dean points to it on the ground. Donna twists to follow his line of sight and gives him a look. “I threw it earlier. Don’t ask why.” She gets up and grabs his phone, lighting up the screen to see the single notification. 

“You play Words With Friends?” She tosses it to him and relief of Cas not using his name on that dumb game fills him. 

“Yeah. Sometimes.” 

“Toes are done. Just let them dry.” Donna sits next to Dean as he unlocks his phone and pulls up the dial pad. He presses down on the two and holds it until Cas’ name pops up and it rings. 

“Speed dial? This is serious,” Donna muses. Dean clenches his jaw, silently cursing himself for not just typing out the number or going through contacts. 

“Dean?” Cas answers, launching Dean’s heart into the stratosphere. 

“Hey, Cas.” Dean looks at Donna and mouths, _ what do I say? _

Donna shakes her head and mimes zipping her lips shut as Cas asks, “Is everything okay?” 

“Yep. Yeah. That. I’m fine.” Dean shuts his eyes, wincing at how stupid and strained he sounds. 

“You haven’t played—” Dean fumbles with his phone trying to figure out how to end the call with shaking hands. “Words With Friends. It’s still your turn.”

“That’s great. I’ll play. I gotta go, Cas.” Dean hits the end button and covers his face with both of his hands as Donna finally laughs. 

“He’s who you play with?” The smile is in her voice. Dean falls back onto his pillows and groans into his hands. 

“Truth or dare?” Dean asks pathetically through his fingers, his face burning. 

“Dare.”

“I dare you to go get ice for my face and powdered donuts because it’s time for dessert,” Dean mumbles. 

“Poor Dean,” Donna sighs, patting his knee. “He’s in love.” 

He listens to her get up and leave the room, the door clicking behind him. He holds his phone to his chest, but keeps his eyes shut tight, unwilling to look as his phone buzzes with a text he knows is from Cas. 

One package of powdered donuts later, the last one doused with Donna’s salt remains. The air conditioner is on, keeping the room cold enough for Dean to be under his blankets. All of the lights are off except the sliver of pale light coming from the bathroom. 

The clouds of pillows that he rests on are far nicer than what he’s used to. A voice in the back of his mind whispers that he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve the pillows, the blankets, the painted nails, or the friend. 

“Are you awake?” Her voice is already slow with sleep. 

“No,” Dean answers, closing his eyes. Another voice, smaller but growing, whispers that maybe he does deserve it. 


	9. Chapter 9

The festival is packed. Minnesotans and Winsconsinites mingle at all of the tents, shopping and eating as music travels through the park from the stage. Donna keeps her arm linked with Dean’s so he doesn’t get lost in the crowd as she pulls them forward, obviously knowing how to navigate through the crowds. Her purple nails on his arm make Dean smile. 

They make it to the brewery tent where a few local breweries are battling it out… with cheese curd pairings. Donna knows exactly what she’s doing as she sips the beer and pops a large curd into her mouth. Dean copies her. They grin at each other as the curds squeak against their teeth. 

The IPA is Dean’s favorite of the contenders for best curd pairing, but Donna votes for the wheat. They each walk away with a cup of their vote and wander toward the stage to sit and listen to the music. 

“Wait here, I’ll grab us some poutine,” Donna says as soon as Dean sits down. She hands him her beer and walks toward one of the food stalls nearby. 

The music isn’t bad. A tribute band to the Beatles is playing, the classic tunes washing over Dean as he watches the crowds. He never has time to just watch people interact. He’s used to searching for the creature that doesn’t belong. Today, he watches friends laugh and gossip, families dancing together on the lawn, couples holding hands and sharing an ice cream. 

An old couple catches Dean’s eye. They look at each other with adoration as they share a quiet conversation. The woman stands from her seat and puts her hand out with a flourish eliciting a genuine laugh from her husband. He plops his hand into hers and stands with a grunt. They easily fit into each other’s arms, having spent the last eternity dancing together. They sway slowly, her head resting on his chest as his feet shuffle slowly. Her feet move with ease but keep to his pace in a practiced sort of way. When the song ends, they don’t part or even seem to notice. 

Dean can’t take his eyes off of them, wanting so badly to have what they have. He will never have what they do. Hunters don’t live long and he’s already on borrowed time. Not to mention, the one person Dean wants is immortal and not allowed love. Dean takes a sip of his beer and looks up at the sky. Every cloud is a set of angel wings. 

“Poutine!” Donna announces behind him. Dean spins around and smiles. She hands him a dish that looks like a heart attack on a plate. Dean can’t wait to dig in. He hands her the beer as she gives him a fork. 

“What is this?” Dean asks, already stabbing into it.

“Delicious,” Donna answers, piling up a bite on her own fork. 

Dean doesn’t bother with more questions. Delicious was the only correct answer. The base of fries are the perfect kind: thick, the crispy outside protecting the molten fall-apart-in-your-mouth potato insides. The gravy on top is the perfect combination of not being watery, but having an oozing delectable texture and flavor. Between the gravy and the fries, though, are the cheese curds, warm and gooey. 

Dean groans happily. “Oh, man,” he says through a mouthful of food. 

“I know.” Donna nods contently as they enjoy their food. 

The band begins to play the first chords of “With a Little Help From My Friends” and Dean immediately puts down his fork and stands up. Donna raises an eyebrow and chews slowly, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“What would you do if I sang out of tune?” Dean sings, putting out his hand. Donna swallows her bite and lets out a soft laugh. “Would you stand up and walk out on me?” 

Donna takes his hand and he pulls her up to dance with him. 

“Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song and I’ll try not to sing out of key,” Dean grins. 

“Please don’t,” Donna teases. 

Dean knows two things about himself for sure. The first is that he’s a terrible singer and no matter how much he does it, there doesn’t seem to be any improvement. The second is he’s as bad at dancing as he is with singing. A third that he realizes as Donna dances beside him, giggling and having fun, is he doesn’t care about the first two things. 

On the last drawn-out note of the song, Dean takes Donna’s hand and spins her throughout the last ringing, “friends!” Donna whoops and giggles as she’s spun, her braid curled hair whirling around her. When the note ends, Dean lets her hand go and she grins up at him. 

“Who knew you couldn’t sing?” 

“Oh, my heart,” Dean groans, slapping his hands over his chest at the insult. “Want to head over to the car show?”

“You betcha!” 

They ditch their empty poutine plates and sip their beer as they walk over to the field of cars. It’s a kind of paradise that Dean knew he’d wanted, but never thought he’d ever visit. Neat rows of mint condition classics make Dean catch his breath. 

Dean had been taught about cars when he was little. Before he was ever meant to be a hunter, Dean had a father who loved him. Preschool only had half days and Dean used to beg his mom to visit the garage where his dad worked. They would go and Dean would look at the lot of beautiful cars that he was not allowed to touch. His dad would smile and tell him all about the makes, models, engines, speeds, and paint colors. 

Then those days were over. Dean was reprimanded for wanting to be a firefighter. He was slapped for asking to go back to the garage to learn about the cars. He was taught about one car, but more out of necessity than for fun. The shine in his father’s eyes was gone, the smile back at the garage. Dean was put behind the wheel of the ‘67 Impala years before he was supposed to learn to drive. He couldn’t see over the wheel of the car, but he was told he needed to know how to drive in case of emergency. The love of the cars remained in Dean’s heart, but what he learned, he had learned in a garage with a father who no longer existed, or in a junkyard with Bobby Singer. 

“This sweetheart came out the same year as my baby,” Dean says, his eyes set on a blue Buick Gran Sport. “She’s in perfect condition, too.”

“Should I give you two a moment?” Donna asks behind him.

“I would never cheat on my baby.” 

“You could have brought her,” Donna says as they walk away from the Buick. 

“Have you seen her?” Dean shakes his head, thinking of the arsenal in the trunk with his box of IDs and demon traps. “No. Not to mention, she used to be on a watch list. She had to stay locked up for a long ass time because she was too recognizable.” 

“How did you manage to survive it?” Donna mocks lightly.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Dean says seriously. 

Picking up his car for the first time in six months feels like a century ago. Since then he’d gone through Purgatory, bearing the Mark of Cain, becoming a demon, and being saved from all of it by the same guy who brought him back to his car in the first place. The one with the filthy trenchcoat and heavy heart.

“The months away from her were worth the day I got to drive her again,” Dean says softly, remembering the first drive, Cas by his side. 

“Why was your car on a watch list?” Donna asks suddenly.

“Do me a favor?” Dean gives her a sideways glance. “Don’t run my name through your cop computer?” 

“Now I have to.” 

“Might as well arrest me now, Sheriff.” Dean holds his arms out to her, his wrists crossed. She shoves his hands away from her and laughs. 

“What’s this one?” Donna asks, pointing to a random car. 

“‘56 Chevy Bel Air,” Dean rattles off immediately. “This is a custom paint job, too. Looks near perfect, but this isn’t one of the original colors for the car.” 

“Why do you know this stuff?” Donna laughs. “What about that one?” Donna asks before Dean can answer. 

“Series 61? 1950 Caddie. Back wheel drive.” The hood is open and Dean dips his head to get a closer look at the engine. 

Dean follows Donna through the craft stalls, drinking a beer as he listens to the music that drifts over. Every once in awhile Donna holds something up for him to approve of. 

Dean looks at a bin of funny socks. They’re the kind Donna wears with little cartoons on them. He laughs as he picks up a pair with ramen on them. 

“Send Noods,” Dean says, holding them up for Donna to see. 

“How much?” Donna asks, taking them from Dean and holding them out to the vendor.

“What are you doing?” Dean hisses as she digs in her wallet.

“You need them!” She grins. 

“If you get me a present then I have to give you a present.” 

Donna presses the socks into his hands. “You brought me here.” She shrugs and walks to the next stall. Dean watches, waiting to find something perfect for her as he holds the socks tightly in his jacket pocket. 

“There’s an idea,” Donna says as they make their way back over to the stage to listen to the next band. “Have you given him a gift?”

“Like what?” What could Dean possibly give to Cas?

“Something personal,” Donna shrugs with one shoulder. “Oh! A mixtape! Bring it back to the 80s!” Dean groans, shaking his head. 

“Because Cas totally knows what giving someone a mixtape means,” Dean says sarcastically. “What would I even put on it?”

“Love songs. You could record your head-splitting singing and give that to him.” 

Dean shakes his head again, laughing this time.

“When do I get to meet Cas and all of your friends?” 

“What friends do you think I have?” Charlie’s face flashes in his mind and his stomach flips. Donna and Charlie would have been fast friends. They were both bubbly, happy creatures, their smiles bright and unwavering. Charlie’s gone. She’s gone and it’s all his fault. Dean takes a deep, shaky breath. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. We, uh… Friends…” Dean trails off, his mind spiraling tight around Charlie’s beaming face. “I, uh…” His nose burns, but he refuses to cry. “One of my friends used to do this thing called LARPing.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that,” Donna nods.

“Well, she was a queen.” Dean looks down at his hands. “Charlie was smart and funny and this adorable little sister that I never wanted. I…” He half laughs, a tear making its way down his nose. “I had to flirt with a guy for her.” 

“Dean?” Donna rests her hand on his arm gently. 

Dean clears his throat and takes a sip of his beer. “Anyway. You know Jody.” 

The walk back to the hotel is quiet, Dean’s heart still heavy with memories. His hand stays in his pocket, the socks clenched in his fist. Donna holds onto his arm as they go, their arms loosely linked. 

“Promise me something,” Dean breaks the silence. Donna looks up at him as they continue to walk. “You won’t put yourself in danger for me. I won’t forgive myself if I lose you too.”

“You won’t lose me,” Donna says, her hand tightening on his arm, “I promise.” With her free arm, Donna holds out her pinky. Dean links his pinky with hers and they drop their hands at the same time. 

When they make it up to their room, Donna digs into Dean’s bag and throws his swimsuit at him. He catches it and looks at her with his eyebrows knitted together in an unspoken question. 

“We’re goin’ swimmin’.” She grabs her own suit out of her bag and runs into the bathroom. 

“Knock before you come out!” Dean calls through the door. He strips quickly and pulls his swim trunks on before searching for sandals to wear up to the pool. 

There’s a knock on the bathroom door as Dean slips his feet into sandals he stole from Sam. “Come in,” Dean calls. 

“Here’s a towel,” Donna says, tossing him one as she exits the bathroom. 

“Why swimming?” Dean asks as they leave their room. Donna doesn’t answer. She just leads him to the elevator that they take up to the roof. 

The view is gorgeous, and it’s not one Dean would ever have taken the time to look at if he were anywhere else. The night sky stretches out, the stars twinkling above. White string lights are wrapped around the fence, creating a perfectly lit night swim. 

Steam billows from the top of the hot tub, begging for Dean to sink into the hot water. He kicks off his sandals and steps into the hot tub, feeling his muscles begin to relax under the water’s touch. Donna follows him after turning on the jets. Bubbles surround them, the roar of the jets taking over the silence of the night as they sit across from each other. 

“Kiss, Marry, Kill?” Donna asks as Dean makes himself comfortable. 

“You mean Fuck, Marry, Kill?” Dean asks, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. 

“Canoodle, Marry, Kill,” Donna continues. Dean bursts out laughing before nodding her on to start the game. “Dr. Piccalo, Dr. Wang, and Dr. Sexy.”

“Wow, starting tough.” Dean cups his hands and squirts water up. “Fuck- I’m sorry… _ Canoodle _ Dr. Wang, marry Dr. Sexy, and kill Dr. Piccalo.” 

“Reasoning?” 

“What? Since when do I have to explain myself?” Dean asks, squirting water at her. “Fine. I’m _canoodling _ Dr. Wang because she’s sexy yet arrogant. She’s got to be right about being amazing, might be the bedroom. I would get tired of the arrogance in a marriage, though. I’m killing Dr. Piccalo because she’s too earnest for a one night stand. It wouldn’t end well. I’m marrying Dr. Sexy for very obvious reasons.”

“Are the cowboy boots part of your decision?”  
  
“Hell yes.” Dean sinks lower in the water, letting the warmth bubble up over his shoulders. “Aragorn, Arwen, and... Sam.” 

“I can’t kill Sam!” Donna splashes Dean. “Oofta. I guess I’m boinkin’ Arwen, marryin’ Aragorn, and killin’ poor little Samwise.” 

“Can’t believe you would do Sam dirty like that,” Dean teases, shaking his head and earning another splash. 

“Dick Roman, Obama, and Bill Gates,” Donna says after a moment of thought. 

“That’s not fair. I’ve already killed one of them.” Dean ignores the look of shock on Donna’s face as he says, “I’m marrying Obama and fucking Bill then.”

“You killed Dick Roman?” Donna blinks a few times. 

“What did you think happened to him?” It occurs to Dean that he hadn’t been around when the news would have aired that Dick Roman was no more. He hadn’t bothered to look after spending a year in Purgatory either. 

“There was an attack on one of his labs and he disappeared, but no one could explain it…” Donna shakes her head slowly. “That was you?” 

“Well, not alone, no. Cas and I took down Roman together, but there was a whole team working together to get in.” 

“You commit murder on all of your dates or..?” Donna teases.

“Not a date,” Dean says, splashing her. “Lonnie, Jody, and Doug.” 

“What?” Donna tries to splash him back, but he’s already out of the hot tub going to the pool as quickly as possible. “His name isn’t Lonnie!” 

“His middle name is!” 

“I’m killin’ Doug, that’s for darn sure!” 

“Fuck yeah!” Dean cheers before cannonballing into the pool. The heat leaves his body all at once as the cool water surrounds him. He pushes back up to the surface, his head swimming from the temperature change. 

“I’ll knock boots with new Doug and marry Jodes.” 

“See, you already have cute names for your wife. I wonder how Lonnie will feel about this.” Dean ducks under the water again to escape Donna’s wrath. 

When he comes up, he lets himself float, staring up at the blanket of night above him. He feels the water ripple and hears the splash as Donna jumps in. The top of her head rests against his as they float and stargaze. He can feel her hair on his shoulders under the water. 

“Look at the stars.” Dean points, his fingertip connecting the constellations above them. 

“Look how they shine for you,” Donna sings to a tune Dean doesn’t know. “And for the things you do…” 

Dean lets her voice, muffled by the water, put him at ease as he continues to drift among the twinkling lights. The possibility of Cas staring up at the same star-studded sky is slim, but it still pulls at Dean’s heart as he hopes, dreams, and floats in a pool of night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful friend for the fanart! Thank you, [blueeyesandpie](https://blueeyesandpie.tumblr.com/post/189313045610/commission-art-of-dean-and-donna-for)!


	10. Chapter 10

Dean follows Donna into the house, carrying her bags for her. His least favorite part of the trip caught up to them and now he’s stalling the goodbye. 

“Next year’s on me,” Donna grins as Dean sets her bags down in the living room. He nods. Next year. Sometimes, with everything that happens in his life, he forgets to plan for next year. There’s only so many times that the world can almost end before you stop planning on a tomorrow. 

“Counting on it.” Dean gives her a half-smile. “Come here.” He pulls her in for a hug that will have to last him awhile. Between the Darkness and the most recent near-death experience that the world just had, he’s not sure when the next time he’s going to see her is. 

“Thanks,” Donna says, meeting his eyes as she steps out of the hug again. 

“For what?” 

“This.” She gives him one of her rosy-cheeked grins that scrunch her nose a little. “I like havin’ ya around.”

“You’re good people,” Dean says as he walks toward the door.

“Don’t be a stranger!” Donna calls after him as he walks out to his car. He nods and waves to her as he ducks into his seat and starts the ignition. Dean watches her in his rearview mirror, standing on her porch and waving to him. He waves out of his window as he drives until he can’t see her anymore.

Dean arrives back at the bunker late. Part of him hopes that Cas is there, but another hopes he’s elsewhere. That feeling is getting more and more common. He wants to be around Cas constantly. He feels alive when he’s close to him. That’s the problem though. His heart beating in his chest so loudly that he’s sure that everyone, especially Cas, can hear it. 

When Dean walks inside, the lights are dim. Sam is already in his room for the night. The War Room table is clear of all the research that Sam and Cas had been working on. Did they finish? Was Cas gone researching more? 

Dean walks through the bunker quietly, silently telling himself that this is what he always does when he comes home and this has nothing to do with looking for a certain angel. Every room is dark. Dean sighs out his disappointment and goes to his bedroom. 

After pulling his jeans off, Dean climbs into his bed and pulls out his phone. 

“Made it home. Night, D-Train,” Dean texts to Donna. He looks up at his notifications bar and sees the Words With Friends icon. 

He taps it and Cas’ most recent word glares at him. _ Gone. _ It’s just a game. Dean tries to tell himself that it’s just a game, but it doesn’t feel like it. He doesn’t want it to be just a game. He wants the words he plays to hold as much weight with Cas as they do with himself. _ No_, Dean plays. He keeps the game open to see if Cas will answer now. When he doesn’t, Dean puts his phone on the side table and rolls over to go to sleep. 

Dean’s not sure what woke him up. He groans into his pillow and stretches. No alarm is set on his phone. No calls or texts. He sits up in the dark and rubs a hand over his face. He shoves his painted toes into some slippers and grabs his robe. The only full thought that he’s having is _coffee_. 

Okay, not that full of a thought, but it’s all Dean needs to get moving toward the kitchen where there will be coffee. Coffee. 

Dean turns to walk into the kitchen and stops. Sam is awake. He’s frozen in the middle of the kitchen. One hand is drawn back and ready to punch, the other is extended, holding an invisible attacker at bay. Dean blinks a few times and looks between the extended hand and the nervous wreck of a Sam. 

“This can’t be happening,” Sam says to himself, eyes wide and filled with disbelief. 

“Dude,” Dean finally says. “Who’re you talking to?” 

Sam looks over, panic all over his face. “Him!” Sam says, gesturing to the empty air at the end of his clenched fist. Between the weird visions of Lucifer, his past migraines with premonitions, and demon superpowers, Dean is much too asleep for this. 

“Are you having a stroke?” Dean asks, unable to come up with literally any other explanation. It’s a little late for schizophrenia and Dean is very done with his little brother’s boy-wonder powers. “Do you smell toast?” 

Before Sam can answer, if he was even going to, Dean’s eyes land on the table. Piled high are desserts of every kind. He feels his arteries close just being in the same room as that sugar rush. “What is all this crap? When’d you start eating this stuff?”

A silver platter of cheeze-its drizzled with hot fudge, tarts, chocolate cake, cheese puffs, a candy wonderland, and, “Is that marshmallows on nachos?” 

“This wasn’t me!” Sam tries. Dean’s not buying it. Maybe he slept-walked or some shit. Doesn’t matter. They have a junk food extravaganza on their table and there’s only two people who eat that live in the bunker. 

“It was me,” comes a new voice. Standing beside Sam is the happiest looking being that Dean has ever seen. Rainbow suspenders and a goofy hairstyle, he grins with his hands on his hips. Something about him reminds Dean of a cupid he met a long time ago. “And those are delicious,” the stranger says, pointing to the marshmallow nachos. 

Everything is drowned out as Dean takes in this character. There is no other word for him and his rosy cheeks and yellow striped shirt. He looks out of place and colorful and he definitely wasn’t here a second ago. 

“This is Sully,” Sam finally says after some stuttering. “M-my friend from when I was a kid.” His _friend_. His imaginary friend when he was little. Sam had always been a weird kid, talking about his friend Sully. When John had gotten mad about his imaginary friend, Dean had waited until they were alone to stand up for his kid brother. He’d waited because he knew that he’d take the heat and keep Sam and his imaginary friend safely locked away in what was left of a childhood for as long as he could. 

“You mean Mork from Ork here is your dumbass imaginary friend Sully?” Dean asks. He’s real. Or he’s having an aneurysm. 

“Yeah,” Sam says as Sully protests.

“Uh, I’m not dumb or ass.” 

If he’s real, he’s not some imaginary friend that kept Sam company. He’s a monster. He’s one of the things that they should have been hunting. He was the monster under Sam’s bed. Dean’s skin is crawling. He protected Sully when he should have been protecting Sam. 

“I’m gunna get my gun.”

“No, please!” Sully calls out. Dean doesn’t know what the fuck he just did with his hands, but he’s got them ready to karate chop this marshmallow monster in half. He feels sick. Every time he had told his father that Sully was harmless, he’d been protecting a monster who preyed on children. “Someone killed my friend.” 

His rosy-cheeked smile is gone. He’s deflated. 

“You mean your imaginary, imaginary friend?” Dean clarifies, not even trying to keep the edge and skepticism out of his voice. 

“First off, ‘imaginary friend’ is more of a descriptive term. How you just said it? That was a little… offensive, just to be honest. Secondly, we’re zana. Me…me and the victim were zana.” 

Zana. Doesn’t ring a bell. 

“We help kids,” Sully pleads. Dean bites his cheek to keep from scoffing and showing his disgust. “We’re the good guys. Sam, tell him.” 

All Sam can do is nod numbly. Dean watches the exchange and can’t tell if this is real or not. Zana, imaginary friends, helping children. Not monsters. Not murdering children. This is all too much. 

“You know what? I’m still trying to wrap my head around this whole you being real thing,” Sam says. Dean silently agrees. He’s getting whiplash from this morning’s events. 

“Aw! Yeah, no, no, of course! No, that’s okay! That’s okay! This is all really unexpected!”

“Yeah, that’s one word for it.”

“Just… I need your help.” He sounds desperate. “All right, you’re hunters. That’s what you do right? I mean you help people too, right?”

_ Saving people. Hunting things. _ “Yeah. Yeah, _ people_. You are not that.” 

“In Romanian lore, zana are creatures who guide and protect lost creatures. Zana intentionally appear as figments of a child’s imagination allowing the child to move on with confidence once guidance is no longer necessary,” Sam had read. So it was decided. They would help Bing-Bong. 

Dean calls Donna as he packs a bag, angrily throwing shirts into a duffel. 

“Hiya, Dean,” she answers brightly. 

“I have a question,” he says. 

“Sure.” He can see her nodding along, waiting for the question and she’s not even here. 

“Okay so remember that movie we watched with the blue-haired chick and the sad one?” He can’t think of the name of the movie. It’s on the tip of his tongue. 

“Inside Out,” Donna supplies. 

“Right. Remember her imaginary friend, Bing-Bong?” Not waiting for a response, Dean continues, “So what if he was real with all of his weird hobo elephant-ness and he showed up and asked you to solve the murder of another imaginary friend?”

“Then I guess I’m solvin’ a murder,” Donna answers without hesitation. “That poor guy. Don’t pretend you didn’t cry when he sacrificed himself. I was there. I saw the tears.”

“There was one tear!” Dean protests. “I mean I don’t cry during movies! Shut up. I’m hanging up now.” 

“Wait! What would you do?” 

“I’m solving the fucking murder,” Dean sighs. “Talk to you later, Donna.”

“Bye, Dean!”

When Sam and Dean return to the bunker a few days later, the air is tense between them again. Sparkle the manicorn and Nikki the mermaid are two murders solved. Weems is saved and Sully faced his mistakes, but Sam… Sam wants to walk into the cage and have a talk with Lucifer. 

“Dean,” Sam tries again as they get out of the car and head into the bunker. Dean ignores him. They had their talk. Dean said no. Not happening. End of discussion. “Dean, we need to talk about this.”

“We did talk about this,” Dean says without looking at him. He knows he’s not being fair, but life ain’t fair. Standing by while his brother asks to go visit Lucifer for afternoon tea isn’t fair. “I need sleep.”

Sam makes a face but doesn’t continue with his protests as he wishes Dean a good night. Two doors close and the bunker falls silent. 

Dean plops onto his bed and sighs out the relief before grabbing his headphones and blasting Metallica as he leans against his pillows. He just needs to drown the world out for a little bit. The clock is edging closer to midnight and he’s been driving for hours. His eyelids are heavy and he doesn’t bother fighting them as they start to close. 

His phone buzzes. Dean cracks open one eye and lights up his phone screen. 

Cas.

Suddenly, Dean is no longer sleepy. Any trace of having ever been tired is gone as he sits up and opens the notification to their ongoing game. It looks less like a game and more like a conversation spelled out on the board in one-word plays. 

Home. Love, Hell. Long. Longing. Gone. No. Monster. 

The last word Cas played burns into Dean’s eyes as he reads it, trying to understand. Is it just a word in a game or does it mean something, anything? Dean clicks the “shuffle tiles” button repeatedly as he stares at the word. Cas isn’t a monster. 

Dean drags his letters onto the board. 

Cas is an angel. 

Home. Hell. Long. Longing. Gone. No. Monster. Angel. 

Dean’s heart pounds as Cas continues to play, his phone buzzing again with the new word. Green. Again, is it just a word? Does it mean something? Are those the only letters that worked in Cas’ tile tray or is he thinking about Dean’s eyes? Why does it have to be that? He could be in a garden. He could be surrounded by open fields. He could be in the middle of nowhere, holding his phone up for signal as he thinks about the green of Dean’s eyes and tells him through a stupid game. 

Dean spells out _blue _and hits send before he can stop himself. If Cas is thinking of his eyes, he’ll know that Dean is thinking just the same. Seeing skies and oceans meet in Cas’ gaze. Sapphires and cobalt weaving together to shine when he smiles. 

Dean jumps, dropping his phone when it starts to ring. He shoves his headphones off, not bothering to pause the music as he answers. 

“Cas?”

“Hello, Dean.” 

Why does the world spin when he speaks? Why does Dean’s stomach do a gymnastics routine full of flips and leaps when he says his name? It doesn’t matter. Not when the world also gets brighter. 

“What’s up?” Dean asks, heart leaping into his throat. 

There’s a pause before Cas answers, “The heavens. Millions of dead stars shining from the past. A waning moon.” Dean gets up and walks out of his room, quietly making his way out of the bunker. 

“Keep talking,” Dean whispers as he positions his phone between his face and his shoulder. 

“I didn’t think you were interested in astronomy,” Cas says. “Why are you whispering? Dean?”

Dean closes the door carefully behind him and turns around to see the blanket of night. “I was whispering because it’s night and I didn’t want to wake up Sam.” 

“What’s up?” Cas asks stiffly, copying Dean. 

“The sky,” Dean answers with a gentle laugh. “A ton of constellations that I don’t know the names of. A Cheshire cat smile.” 

“There’s a grinning cat?” 

“Forget it, Cas. Tell me about the stars.” Dean finds a spot in the grass and stretches out, putting one arm under his head as he gazes up at the same sky that Cas is looking at. 

“Do you know of Altair and Vega?” Cas asks. Dean shakes his head, forgetting that Cas can’t see him. Cas continues anyway. “The legend changes depending on who you ask. Vega was a young woman who appeared to be a simple weaver. She belonged to a family of demigods and was immortal. She fell in love with a mortal man.”

“Altair,” Dean says softly, searching the sky to see if he can find them among the stars. 

“Altair was just a farm boy, a cow herder. Their love was strong and grew stronger every day. Vega’s parents didn’t approve. They were against the love of mortal and immortal beings.” 

_ As angels are against the love between humans and angels, _Dean thinks but keeps quiet. 

“Vega’s parents separated the lovers, carving a river between them. On one side of the river sits Vega’s loom. On the other is Altair and his cow herd. Between them is their river made of a full galaxy. One night a year, the lovers meet.”

“Where are they?” Dean asks.

“They’ll appear in a few hours, just before sunrise,” Cas says softly. “You need your four hours, Dean.’

“I can wait,” Dean protests. “Is tonight their night?”

“I believe so.” There’s a beat of comfortable silence as they stare up at the sky together. “I have to go,” Cas says, breaking the silence. Dean hears the reluctance, but he can’t tell if he imagined it because it’s what he wants to hear or not. 

“Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean pulls up their game and sees that just before calling, Cas had played _joke_. Dean arranges his letters to once again play _love_. He stares at it, ready to recall the letters again and find something else to play when he drops his phone. He scrambles to pick it up but it’s too late. The word has been played. 

Dean groans and covers his burning face with both hands. 

“Noooo,” escapes through the cracks of his fingers. He picks up his phone and calls the only person in the world he can talk to about this. 

“Dean?” Donna picks up. She sounds like she’s been sleeping. Oops.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Wait!” she says as Dean starts pulling the phone away from his face to hang up. “What’s wrong?”

“Stupid stuff that can wait.” 

“Wouldja stop bein’ so thick-skulled and just talk to me?” Donna asks. He half-smiles and sighs. “Out with it! What happened?”

“Do you think that certain people read into the words you play on scrabble?” Dean asks, wincing at how dumb he sounds. 

“Depends,” she says slowly. “Is this particular individual also an angel?” Dean groans in response, his face heating up again. Donna squeals. “What did’ya do?”

“I’ll send it.” Dean takes a screenshot before sending it to Donna. He waits a few seconds and hears her scream of delight. He smiles despite his embarrassment.

“He better read into this,” Donna says when she’s finished celebrating. “You two have been _flirtin’. _” 

“Have not!”

“Oh, yah. Big time, mister.” 

The night dissolves into laughter and blushes. The evil in the world seems far away as Vega and Altair draw closer. 


	11. Chapter 11

Donna walks into the living room with a bowl of popcorn. Doug coming over to watch movies is still new. It’s a fresh transition from their weekly lunch or dinner dates. She had wanted to go as slowly as possible, still healing from her past, and Doug said okay. He let her set the pace and allowed her the space she needed to become comfortable enough to keep going. 

“Popcorn!” Donna announces. Doug turns and smiles, but Donna’s drops when she sees the tv. “I thought we were watchin’ a movie.”

“We are,” Doug says. 

“Then what do we have here?” Donna asks as she sits down next to him. Doug doesn’t have time to answer before the commercial ends and the bright red banner at the bottom of the screen lights up with breaking news. 

“The President of the United States has been found. He’s currently under observation. Kelly Kline, his secretary, remains missing. Efforts to find her and bring her back are looking hopeful again with the President’s recovery…” 

“Oh,” Donna manages, sitting back. The news has been strange lately. 

“The world’s endin’ one minute, the President gone and recovered in the next. What the heck is happenin’?” Doug picks up the remote and switches it over to their movie. She almost grabs the remote back to switch it back over but they aren’t here to watch the news. She has a bad feeling, the kind she can’t tell Doug about. 

“There was also that rockstar,” Donna says before Doug can hit play. He looks over at her and furrows his brow. “Three’s a pattern.” 

“Of what?” 

“Haven’t the foggiest.” She has the creeping feeling that this is Dean’s kind of strange. Something wasn’t right the night that the news reported the end of the world and it miraculously stopped and there’s something not quite right now. 

Doug presses play on their movie as Donna’s phone starts playing “Highway” by Wayward Daughter. Jody calling at this moment in time feels ominous, so instead of ignoring it like Donna has never actually done, she apologizes to Doug and picks up the phone. 

“Hiya, Jodes,” Donna answers, trying to sound cheery despite the churning of her stomach. 

“Watching the news?” Jody asks. Donna gets up from the couch and walks down the hallway out of earshot of Doug. 

“Caught the tail end just now. Oofta. It’s that side of weird isn’t it?” 

“I’m worried about my boys,” Jody whispers after a moment. “The last time I saw them was at Asa’s funeral. There was so much happening. Mary came back.”

“Mary?” 

“Their mom.”

Who knew one word could be so heavy. Donna knows that their mom died when they were both young, but not that she was brought back. How did Hitler make headlines and his mother didn’t? “Oh,” is all Donna can say. 

“You didn’t know either?” She sounds as shocked as Donna feels.

“Isn’t she…?”

“She was. I don’t know the details. Like I said, there wasn’t time to talk and Dean wasn’t exactly forthcoming.” Jody clears her throat and lowers her voice. “Something’s going on and I don’t know what it is. I’m scared for my boys.”

“You and I both know they’re gunna be fine,” Donna says, though the fear that she’s wrong seeps deep into her skin. 

“I hope so.” Jody sighs and Donna holds her phone a little tighter. “He just shut down when she walked in…”

“Why don’t you call him?” 

“I tried all of the Winchester numbers,” Jody laughs humorlessly. “No one’s home.” 

Every anxious thought and stray fear ball up tight together to form a stone in Donna’s stomach. She can’t find comforting words for Jody or for herself. She’s used to not hearing from Dean for weeks at a time as he hunts and does whatever it is he does in his spare time. She’s used to dealing with the idea that he’s probably in constant danger due to his line of work. She’s not used to news of the world ending, rock stars turning to dust on stage, Presidents being kidnapped, and a woman everyone thought was dead returning from her grave. 

“Donna?” Jody asks through the phone at the same time as Doug calls her from down the hall. 

“I have to go. Talk later, Jodes.” 

Donna heaves a sigh and sends Dean a quick text before squaring her shoulders and heading back out to movie night, determined not to drown in her own worry. 

Donna checks her phone. It’s been two weeks since the President was recovered. No word from either of the Winchesters. She knows it’s useless to call again. She’s called so many times and left so many messages. Some of those messages were of motherly scorn, others of a concerned sister. He’s not going to pick up and she’s just going to feel the knots in her belly tighten. 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Donna mutters as she walks aimlessly through her house. She doesn’t have a picture of her and Dean on display in her living room yet. They’re still all on her phone. 

“Hello?” a deep voice answers. Donna stops, her hand falling from the bookshelf that she had been running her finger across. The voice is rich with emotion and even though it’s not Dean’s, she’s not entirely convinced that voice doesn’t belong to him. 

“Cas?” 

“Uhm, yes.” 

Donna bites down on her lip as she sucks in a lungful of air to keep from squealing with excitement. She’s talking to Cas. The love of her best friend’s life: Cas. The topic of many a conversation: Cas. 

“Dean isn’t…” He trails off and pushes out the rest of his breath. He sounds defeated. Donna feels her smile slip. 

“It’s okay,” she hears herself saying. “It’s not your fault.” 

“Was there a reason for this call? Do you need help?” 

There wasn’t a reason for calling except to check on Dean. She had already canceled their hotel reservations for another spa weekend away as she had crossed off their third friendaversary on her calendar.

“I was just callin’ to check in and see if we were still on to hang out.” She recalls asking Dean when she was allowed to meet Cas and he told her never. Then again, if Dean didn’t want her meeting Cas, he shouldn’t have let him answer the phone. “You could always take his place. Want to take a load off?”

“I probably shouldn’t.”

“Well, if you ever wanna talk, my door’s open. My phone’s on and I can send you my address.” She swallows, finding little comfort in the fact that he sounds as worried about Dean being gone as Jody and herself. “You’re not alone, Cas,” she promises gently. 

“Thank you.” He hangs up and Donna releases the tension from her shoulders that she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She types her address and sends it to Dean’s phone with little hope for any kind of a response. 

She barely has time to pocket the phone again before there’s a knock at the door. She glances at her calendar to make sure she’s not expecting anyone. The day is blank. Donna shakes her head, flipping through her friends list in her head to try to think of anyone who could be here as she goes to answer the door. 

When she opens the door she hears an echo of what Dean had once said to her when she had asked what Cas looked like. _ “He’s shorter than me. Bluest eyes you’ve ever seen...Dark, wild hair... He wears a suit and he usually wears a blue tie... Except the tie is always backwards... And he always, always wears a tan trenchcoat.” _

The description is spot on, except for maybe the height thing. He’s a good five inches taller than her, but everything else is just as Dean had said. His blue eyes are sad and tired. 

“I accept the invitation, Donna,” Cas says. There’s something about the way he holds himself and speaks. He’s otherworldly. 

“Come on in,” she says, opening the door wider and stepping to the side as she tries to keep from staring. This is the angel she was told about. This is the being that has held Dean Winchester’s heart captive for eight years. 

“Thank you,” he says. “Your home is beautiful.” He’s looking into the living room, his intense eyes peering directly at the photographs just as Dean had done. 

“Can I getchya anything?” She’s not sure what she could possibly get an angel. He turns his gaze to her and tilts his head in question, his eyes squinting like he doesn’t understand. They’re on the same page. There’s no rulebook on how to handle houseguests from Heaven. 

“Dean has a reminder in his phone that just says your name.” Cas takes a few tentative steps into the living room and looks at the couches before opting to remain standing in the center of the room. “It went off last week.” 

“It was our third friendaversary.” His absence feels more real with Cas standing in her living room telling her things about him that she didn’t know. She didn’t expect him to set a reminder in his phone. She didn’t expect his crush to answer the phone. She didn’t expect to feel lost and left behind. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says, his voice hitching for a moment. His shoulders sag and he looks defeated. 

“This isn’t your fault,” Donna says. She wants to hug him but she doesn’t know if she’s allowed. She finds herself going to him anyway. She wraps him in a hug, the type of hug that Jody always tells her needs a warning first, and is surprised when his arms wrap around her too. 

“I’m afraid it is,” is all he says after a long moment passes. “I don’t know where he is and that’s my fault too.”

“How is that your fault?” Donna asks as she leads Cas to a couch to sit down. 

“I’m the one who carved runes into his ribs to keep him hidden.” Cas sighs, his eyes dropping to his hands in his lap. “To keep him safe. I had to get a mobile device to keep in contact with him.” 

“What happened?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” He looks back up at Donna, quirking one eyebrow. 

“The end of the world is probably a good place to start if you know anything about it.” Something tells her he knows everything about it. Much more than Jody anyway. “Before that, Mary Winchester is back from the dead?” Cas winces at her name. 

“The two are connected,” Cas says awkwardly. “It’s a long story.”

“Wouldja look at all the time I’ve got,” Donna says, remembering that those words were the ones that led to the first story about Cas she had ever heard. 

“God’s sister tried to kill him, which began the end of the world. It was voted upon that a soul bomb would be built to kill her, but the only way to get close enough with the bomb was to send Dean in as the bomb. He talked her into taking God away with her and talking through whatever they needed to work through instead of killing each other and the world. In return, she let Dean live and revived his mother.” 

“You really know how to sugar-coat that God is real and everythin’ don’tcha?” Donna lets out a humorless laugh that borders on hysterical as she gets up. “I need a beer. Do you need a beer? I’ll just grab the whole pack.” 

Cas puts a hand on hers to keep her from going anywhere. It doesn’t take much. She’s not sure she can feel her legs. Donna plops back onto the couch as she watches Cas get up and walk out of the room. He comes back with a beer and sets the rest of the pack on the coffee table. 

“Should I continue?” Cas asks. Donna holds up a finger before drinking the whole bottle. When she’s finished, she puts the empty bottle on the table and nods at Cas. 

“No wait,” she says quickly as soon as he opens his mouth. He closes it again and waits. “God is real?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, continue,” she says, sinking into the couch. 

“I was instructed by Dean to take care of Sam, so after Dean left… We all thought he was dead. Sam and I returned to the bunker and a Woman of Letters used that moment to kidnap Sam and send me away. When I returned, Dean and Mary were there. I wasn’t expecting her return, but that moment was clouded with the immense relief from Dean’s return when we all thought he had died. That’s when he kissed me an—”

“WHAT?!” Donna shrieks. “What happened? Tell me everything! How did he kiss you? Did you kiss him back? WHAT HAPPENED?!” 

“I… yes. I kissed him back,” Cas says slowly. Donna feels all of her excitement bubbling up but keeps from screaming again because the angel looks alarmed. “He told me that he had almost died without telling me how he felt and that he loved me,” Cas chokes and his face crumples. 

Dean is missing. Dean is missing and Cas can’t locate him. It drops like a bomb in Donna’s stomach. 

“He kissed me when I told him I loved him.” Cas takes a deep breath that shutters. “And now he and Sam are gone. Lucifer’s child is gone. It’s my fault and I can’t fix it.” 

“Cas…” She wants to tell him he can stop, but he doesn’t seem to be stopping. Not yet. 

“You asked me another question. How did he kiss me? He kissed me like his life depended on it. He kissed me and made worlds collide and created new ones. Colors burst and walls broke down. Stars were born, exploding into light. He kissed me like a man in love and it was all I had wanted since I fell in love with Dean Winchester.” 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by Leaf Zelindor! Thank you so much for the beautiful art!  
Check out the original post on on her [tumblr](https://leafzelindor.tumblr.com/). Click here for original artwork  
[Click here for original artwork!](https://leafzelindor.tumblr.com/post/612678870639034368/the-wonderful-maggiemaybe160-won-a-piece-from-me)

The small world that Donna had lived in before had grown considerably since Cas had walked into her home. There was a time before she had met the Winchesters that there was no such thing as monsters and Heaven and Hell were both debatable. God existed in faith and as a vague notion, not as a person on Earth who had a sibling rivalry. People never came back from the dead and friends didn’t go missing without a trace. 

“How did you meet them?” Cas asks. They’re in the backyard now. She sits on her porch swing, a blanket thrown over her lap as Cas stands by the porch railing. 

“Sam and Dean? Well, they blew through town pretendin’ to be a couple’a agents. Had me fooled. Saved me from my first real monster.” Donna grins at the memory before hugging herself. 

“I wasn’t very good the first time I pretended to be an FBI agent with Dean,” Cas admits. Donna laughs. Picturing this man next to Dean with a fake FBI badge seems the least plausible of everything she’s found out today. 

“Are you a hunter then too?” Donna asks after a moment. It never occurred to her that an angel could be a hunter. Maybe witches and vampires could too. 

“A poor example of one, yes,” Cas says softly. “At least, I’d like to think I am. My family is.” 

“I have a question,” Donna says, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them to her. 

“I might have an answer,” Cas responds. 

“Do you ever wish you were human?” It seems like an odd question, but it’s just as hypothetical as asking another person if they’ve ever dreamed of being a mermaid or superhero. 

“I was for a short time.” He finally sits down next to her and looks straight out over her backyard. 

“Angels can become human?” 

“If their grace is removed, yes. It was painful, but I learned a great deal about humans in the process. I don’t envy humans, but I’m grateful for my temporary experience.” 

“What was the weirdest part?” 

“Urination,” Cas says without hesitation. Donna bursts out laughing and claps a hand over her mouth. She swears she sees his mouth twitch, but it could have been a trick of the light. “What’s your favorite part of being human?” Cas asks after a moment.

No one has ever asked her that. Why would they? She hums quietly while she thinks. “I don’t know what’s exclusive to humans anymore. My world’s been cracked open like a coconut. Angels and demons. Every monster and heeby-jeeby. What was your favorite?”  
  
“The taste of food was dramatically improved. I couldn’t taste each molecule it was made up of. Have you ever had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” 

“All the time.”

Cas nods as if recalling a fond memory. Donna tries to think up the last time she enjoyed a sandwich that much. That was just her lunch if she ran out of time in the morning on her way to work. It was a nothing special kind of meal to her, but to him, it was his favorite thing about being a human. 

“You’re a police officer right?” 

“That’s Sheriff to you,” Donna grins. 

“If Sam and Dean were arrested, would we be able to look that up?” 

“Is this hypothetical?” Donna asks, straightening in her seat. Cas looks away from her and clears his throat. His hands are clasped in his lap, his knuckles white. “Fluffernutter, it’s not hypothetical. Okay, so when were they arrested?”

“They’ve been gone for two weeks and five days.” 

Donna can smell a coverup before she even looks. She gets up and leads Cas back inside. She has a work computer in her office and she already knows that she won’t be able to find a trace of the Winchesters. She logs on anyway and Cas hovers nearby as she searches. 

The first thing she searches for is arrests made. Dean had told her not to run his name through her computer. Part of her is scared to, but the search she’s on is too broad right now. Biting her lip, she types in Dean Winchester. 

She doesn’t know what she was expecting. Whatever it was, it wasn’t this. It starts bad and gets worse. Credit card and mail fraud, breaking and entering, and grave desecration start the list. Armed robbery and kidnapping. There’s an outstanding warrant for murder in Missouri and three murders in Arkansas. There’s a string of murders in different states. The mugshots are all younger, a Dean she never met. Eventually, there’s just snapshots from security cameras. According to the computer, Dean was never arrested almost three weeks ago. According to the computer, Dean Winchester is dead and has been multiple times. 

Sam’s list is much the same except that he’s listed as nothing more than a probable accomplice in a few of the murders. From the string of murders that took place across the country, he’s seen in the security footage right beside his brother, gun in hand. He’s also incorrectly labeled as deceased. At least Sam’s old mugshots have the decency to look upset by the situation he’s in. Dean’s all have an air of confident arrogance and amusement. 

Donna doesn’t have to say anything. She can feel Cas’ nervous energy dissipate into disappointment as he reads over her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” she offers weakly. She doesn’t know what else she can do, and from the looks of it, neither does Cas. He shakes his head, dismissing her apologies as they leave the room together. “Do you know who took them and why?” 

“Is the President back?” Cas asks in lieu of an answer. Donna narrows her eyes. 

“Don’t tell me that they’re the ones that kidnapped the President of the United States,” Donna says, pleading with everything she has that it not be true. Cas only presses his lips together. “No!” She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why? There had to be a reason.” 

“He was possessed by Lucifer and we needed to capture him. Lucifer, not the President.” 

“H-E- double hockey sticks,” Donna breathes, plopping down onto the couch. Today has been a big day in the way of information dumping. Her head feels like it’s spinning. “Can we talk about somethin’ else for a minute or two? I need to catch my breath.” 

“The buzzing that honey bees make is actually the sound of their wings beating 11,400 times per minute. I remember the day I learned that fact. I went out to the garden and listened. I stayed out there counting and watching their flight patterns all morning.” Cas sits next to Donna and traces a finger through the air. “Their patterns appear random but they’re actually calculated and mapped out meticulously. Using a dance to communicate, they share their patterns and multiple bees will take the same path.” 

His hand drops back into his lap and he looks over at Donna as if to check on her. She tries to imagine sitting in a garden and being able to count the individual wingbeats of a single bee. 

“Cas?” 

“Yes?” 

“Can we go to a garden?” 

Cas nods once and gets up. He holds out a hand to Donna and she takes it, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. His grip is gentle and he drops her hand the moment she’s up. She steps into her shoes and grabs her keys as quickly as she can as her best friend’s angel walks back out her door. Part of her is worried that if she takes too long, he’ll vanish as quickly as he materialized. 

When she gets outside though, he’s there waiting by her truck. She unlocks it and they get in. She doesn’t have a specific place in mind, but she needs to move. She needs to step into fresh air. She’s surprised when she parks but tries not to show it. Cas follows her out of the car and down the path silently. 

“You have a garden?” Donna asks after a minute of silent walking. 

“No. The hospital I was a patient at had a garden.” Cas looks straight ahead. The blue skies make his eyes look more intense, yet softer somehow. “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. It’s refreshing to be around someone who shows it.” 

“Why?”

“Sometimes it’s tiring to hear them say that they’re fine when the world is crumbling around them. They weren’t raised in a place where saying anything other than fine was acceptable. I understand that, I just find it exhausting. It’s a relief to take a break to talk about bees and walk through nature when it all becomes too much.” 

“Is anything too much for you though?” Donna asks quietly, trailing her finger over a leaf as she passes it. 

“Yes,” he says after a heavy sigh. “My burdens are great and I don’t always handle them with grace.” 

They fall into a comfortable, companionable silence again. The light breeze rustling through leaves and the sound of their footsteps in the dirt are the sounds that Donna listens to as she quiets her fears and relaxes her shoulders. 

Cas deviates from the path when he sees a bee. Donna doesn’t question it. She only follows. The bee inadvertently leads them to a small garden of wildflowers and clover. Cas sits in the grass and looks up at Donna, inviting her to join him. She takes her spot next to him and tries to focus on the bee that brought them to this spot. 

“The first time I spoke to Dean, I thought he would be able to hear my true voice,” Cas says softly, breaking the silence. “He covered his ears so I tried harder. The glass around him exploded. It was my first feeling of excitement. I had just rescued Dean Winchester from Hell. I had been the one to grip his shoulders and raise him up. I wanted to tell him that he was alive and well and that Heaven had done this for him because he was important. It doesn’t matter if Heaven has exiled me and Dean didn’t fulfill their wishes. He’s still important to me.” 

“Why’d they exile you?” 

“Because I chose him,” Cas says simply. “I choose him every time.” Donna leans against his shoulder for a moment. It’s the only kind of comfort and understanding she can offer him. He leans back, nudging her back.

Donna plucks a daisy and spins it between her fingers before passing it to Cas. He holds it delicately in the palm of his hand. Something about the moment looks like a painted masterpiece: an angel in a garden holding a daisy. 

She plucks two more daisies and weaves them together. “Tell me more,” she says as she gathers the flowers that poke up from the ground around them.

“Six months and fifteen days after Dean met me, he prayed for the first time in his adult life,” Cas begins. Donna tries to keep her face composed. Six months and fifteen days. That’s how long it took Dean to realize he was in love with Cas. “His voice was the clearest prayer I had ever heard before. It belonged just to me. In all of Heaven, I was the only one to hear Dean’s prayer. I had told him that praying was a sign of faith. But his faith in God and Heaven wasn’t restored. It wasn’t then and it isn’t now. When he prayed, it wasn’t an open letter to Heaven. His prayers were only for me. He’s met God. He’s fought beside him and for him and still, he prays to me. Not God. Not Heaven. Me, an exiled angel. His faith belongs to an angel with singed wings.” 

Donna finishes weaving the flower crown of daisies and yellow bursts of dandelion. She stands up, holding the crown delicately, and faces Cas. He squints up at her as she drapes it over his head. His dark hair makes the flowers look brighter. She nods her approval and sits back down next to Cas. 

“I can’t make you a crown,” Cas says. 

“That’s okay.” Donna looks over at him as he looks between her and the single flower in the palm of his hand. He tucks the daisy she’d handed him behind her ear before looking back out over the garden. “Thanks,” she smiles. 

Some time later, Donna finds herself sitting next to a flower-crowned angel while they watch the sunset. It dawns on her that Hell isn’t just somewhere one ends up. It’s not like saying Dean went to Florida. Hell is somewhere you go when you die. It used to be more of a vague idea of a place bad people went when they died, but it was becoming more and more solid and real the longer Donna knows about the hidden world of monsters that Dean lives in and Cas comes from. 

“Wait, Dean died?” she asks a little too loudly and suddenly. Cas jumps and looks over at her with a strange look in his eyes. “You rescued him from Hell. He died?”

“Dean has died many times,” Cas says tiredly, his shoulders relaxing again. 

“I thought only bad people went to Hell?” 

“Good people can go to Hell when they’re desperate,” Cas says softly. “When Sam died, he was desperate enough to sell his soul. He was dead a year later, not that he didn’t live with reckless abandon during that year.”

“Oofta,” Donna breathes. 

“I need to find him,” Cas says, looking back out at the darkening sky. “Them. I need to find them.” 

“You will,” Donna says reassuringly though her worry is still there. 

They had parted ways the only way Donna knew how; with the biggest hug she could muster. She had punched her phone number into his phone and he’d called her while standing right in front of her so she had his number. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” she’d warned him. “You’ll find them.” 

That was weeks ago. Almost a month. 

Donna lays on her bed, starfished as she stares up at the ceiling. The last sliver of hope in her bones is starting to wane with the days. That sliver tells her that Dean is fine. Sam is okay. They will make it back from wherever it is they are. The much larger part of herself swims in dread, wondering when she’s going to get the phone call from Cas telling her that she has a funeral to attend. 

“Phone call, Sheriff,” Doug says, poking his head into the break room where Donna is pouring herself a cup of coffee. 

“Who could be callin’?” she wonders aloud. Doug only shrugs. His mustache slants with his mouth. Donna goes back to her desk and tries to swallow the dread as she stares at the blinking light telling her the call is on hold. “Give me a minute, wouldja?” 

“No problem,” Doug says good-naturedly before he leaves her alone in her office. 

She holds her breath for a moment, silently telling herself that it’s not the phone call she’s afraid of. She’s at work. It’s probably nothing. She picks up the receiver and lets out all of the breath before pressing the hold button and answering, “Sheriff Hanscum.”

“I have about a hundred missed calls from someone named Donna. I think I might have a stalker.”

“Dean!” Donna nearly screams. 

“That was my ear!” Dean groans. “I’m sorry I missed our day,” he says after a moment, his voice more serious. 

“You’re alive! You’re okay!” She feels herself start to cry, the relief flooding her entire being. 

“Please don’t cry. I’m fine. Sam’s fine. We’re okay,” Dean reassures her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call sooner. I was a little held up.” 

“What happened?” 

For a silent moment, Donna thinks he’s hung up on her. “What’re my chances of getting through this phone call without answering that?”

“Slim to none.” 

“Donna? Is something wrong?” Doug asks, running back in. Donna wipes the tears from her face as fast as she can. 

“Yah, you betcha,” Donna nods. Doug’s brow furrows. 

“Are you cryin’?” He’s sweet when he’s concerned, but she can’t talk about this with him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

“My friend,” she has no idea where this sentence is going, “just called to tell me he’s cancer-free.” 

“So glad I dodged that bullet,” Dean sighs with mock relief in her ear. She bites her cheek to keep from laughing. “What kind of cancer did I have?”

“It was in his lungs, but he’s fine now,” Donna says. Doug gives her a smile and a congratulations to pass onto her cancer-free friend as he leaves again. 

“Weird. I’ve had stomach cancer. Never lung cancer. Glad I pulled through.” She can hear the smile in his voice and has questions about the stomach cancer, but decides it’s a conversation for another time. 

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” Donna warns. “It’s so good to hear your voice, Dean.”

“Back atcha. Get back to work, Sheriff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you for reading! I appreciate the comments, kudos, subs, all of it! I will be going on Hiatus for this fic until after New Years, so posting will resume on January 7. Happy Holidays everyone! 
> 
> If you want to chat with me you can find me on tumblr as MaggieMaybe160!


	13. Chapter 13

The phone rings. Donna groans into her pillow and rolls over. The phone rings again. She opens one eye and tries to make out the time. Her eyes are still bleary from sleep. She swipes randomly at her phone, trying to get it to shut up as she picks it up. 

“Hhhhmmmm?” she answers, closing her eyes again as she melts back into her pillow. 

A loud sob comes through the phone and Donna’s eyes snap open. She sits up, heart racing as she listens to Dean’s anguished cries. It sounds like his heart has been ripped from him. 

“Dean? Dean, what happened? Are you alright? Where are you?” Donna rushes with her questions. 

“Cas,” Dean manages before sucking in a harsh breath. 

Dean’s hands are shaking. He only notices when the phone he’s holding drops into the dirt. He doesn’t care. His entire world is shattering. He chokes on his name as he abandons his phone. He clutches at the lapels of _ his _ trenchcoat as a sob rips through him. 

“NO!” he screams. This can’t be happening. This really can’t be happening. 

_ “Cas!” He arrived late. He arrived too late to save him. The angel blade plunged deep into his abdomen and Cas gasped, his eyes widened as he looked to the Heavens. His eyes fell shut and he slumped, the blade sticking out of him like a pin in a pillow. Dean pulled the blade and used it to kill his murderer and immediately dropped it, the metal clanging as it hit the floor. _

_ “Cas,” Dean begged, his hands cupping his best friend’s face. He felt his heart shatter. “Cas!” Dean could hear himself breaking as he screamed. He was cold and limp, unresponsive and just… gone. “No.” _

_ Cas, one a powerful angel, died a human, killed by his own blade because Dean wasn’t fast enough. “Sam, he’s gone.” With a burst of light from the palm of an angel, he was back. _

_ “Dean.” His voice was and forever will be the sweetest sound. _

_ “Hey,” Dean breathed, relief flooding him. “Hey! Yeah.” He could feel himself start to breathe again as Cas’ deep blue eyes searched his. He was alive. He was back. He was okay. “Never do that again!” Dean warned. He couldn’t take it if he did. _

His soul is being torn apart. He can hear his fractured heart shattering in his chest over the sound of his sobs. His lips are salty with tears. He runs a shaky hand down the side of Cas’ face, the chill of death already in his skin. 

“My love,” Dean chokes. “Ol hoath.” He drops his head to Cas’ still chest and weeps, the jacket curled into his tight fists as his entire body shakes with grief. 

_ Stepping through the forest, the light was low enough that Dean could barely see. He thought he could hear talking. He thought he had to be close to the road. Close to Cas. _

_ “Dean!” Cas’ voice hit Dean as he saw him for the first time in almost seven weeks. _

_ “Cas!” He felt his arms around him and melted into the tight embrace, nuzzling into his boyfriend’s neck. He checked to see that Sam and Mary were busy with their own reunion before pulling back enough to kiss Cas. His lips were soft and wanting, kissing back gently and urgently all at once. Their lips parted and Dean pressed his forehead to Cas’, looking into his eyes that hold the night sky in them. He had to say goodbye. _

_ For the first time, Dean didn’t ask for the keys. He didn’t want to drive. He slid into the backseat next to Cas. He wanted to spend his last few minutes with the one he loves. Their fingers twined together between them and Dean stared at the planes of his face, illuminated by the passing streetlights, memorizing every line. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see the clock. He could feel it in his heart, pounding out the final minutes, seconds, moments. _

_ “It’s time,” Sam announced. Dean helt Cas’ hand tighter and tried to ignore the pained confusion on his face. Sam and Mary were the first ones out of the car as Cas wouldn't let go of Dean’s hand. _

_ “Dean?” _

_ “I love you,” Dean whispered. “I had to see you one last time.” He untangled their hands and got out of the car. _

_ “What’s happening?” Mary demanded. _

_ “Yeah, Dean,” Billie said, making Dean’s heart drop into his stomach. Time’s up. “‘Sup?” _

_ Dean looked across the car at Cas. Their eyes met and held as Billie delivered his death sentence. “Come midnight, a Winchester dies. Like, permanently.” _

“Dean?” Donna’s worried voice comes through his forgotten phone. 

“It should have been me,” Dean says, his voice flat. “I should have died in the fucking car crash when I was twenty-seven. I should have died and stayed dead when those hellhounds took me downstairs. If he hadn’t _ gripped me tight and raised me from Perdition _ he wouldn’t be— It should have been me.”

_ Cas grunted. The sound was wet with blood and took all of Dean’s attention. He sidestepped his mother and kneeled beside his angel., his name on his lips forcing his heart to race faster. _

_ “Hey,” Dean said softly. “Wow, you look like hammered crap.” _

_ “Yeah, that sounds about right,” Cas managed through clenched teeth. _

_ “Let’s see.” Dean lifted his bloodied shirt to reveal the blackened cracks in Cas’ skin stretching across his stomach. He swallowed, trying to mask his frown, but his worry shone through. “Alright. Okay.” He pulled Cas’ shirt down again as his angel groaned through his pain. “You know what? I’ve had worse.” _

_ “Yeah? When?” Cas gasped. _

_ Dean’s mouth went dry. When had he had worse? He’d had worse when he was ripped to shreds by a hellhound, killed on the spot as he choked on his own blood. He’d had worse only when he’d died. _

_ “Dean, something’s wrong. I can’t heal myself. I think… I think the demon’s spear was poison. I don’t know… I think I’m dying.” Dean’s heart slammed. His ears started ringing. _

_ “No.” _

_ “No, you listen to me. You… Look, thank you. Thank you. Knowing you,” his eyes were steady on Dean and it broke his heart and melted his soul, “it’s been the best part of my life. And the things we’ve shared together… they have changed me. You’re my family. I love you. I love all of you.” _

He didn’t die then. He almost died and that was enough to make Dean’s world feel like there was no air left to breathe. Now? Now the color has been sucked from the world, leaving everything gray and lifeless. The air is too thin to breathe. The gravity has been set too high, pulling Dean down. Time seems to be passing around him, spinning around him and making him dizzy as he stays still, collapsed on top of the body of the man he loves. 

“I can’t do this,” Dean whispers, tears streaming down his face. He turns off his phone and falls to Cas’ side, staring up at the sky. 

“I fell in love with you,” Dean breathes. 

_ “Cas?” Dean spins. He’s gone, leaving Dean stranded in Purgatory surrounded by the snarling beasts in the shadows that surround him. He’s alone. “Cas!” _

_ “Where’s the angel?” he snarled. He was more monster than human, snarling, barking, and growling the only question that mattered. With no answer, another head rolled. Even with an answer, his blade was bloodied. _

_ Every night he prayed to and for him. Every day he thought he was too late. But then there was a stream. A river with rumors of the only angel in Purgatory. A glimmer of hope he didn’t deserve. _

He remembers laying in the grass outside of the bunker, his phone pressed to his cheek as he gazed up at the night sky with Cas’ voice in his ear. He remembers the blush in his cheeks and the pounding of his excited heart. It’s a stark contrast to the numbness that has filled him, the cold night air biting his cheeks as he cries. He stares up at the sky but Cas’ voice doesn’t tell him another story of the stars. 

The stars are quiet and dim. Cas held the stories. Cas held the light. Dean shuts his eyes tight, clenches his jaw, and listens to his heart scream. He wants to scream. He wants to rewind time and kill Lucifer long before this happened. Before this night. Before he ever convinced Cas to say yes. Before before before. 

_“What’d he say, Dean? What was so important?”  
__  
_ _“If I knew that, why would I be here?” The obvious fact was that Cas wasn’t okay. Electricity sparked from exposed wires. The room they were walking through looked as if a bomb went off. The longer they searched without a word from the angel, the lower Dean’s heart sank. “There was a fight here.”_

_ “Between who?” Sam asked. Dean shined his flashlight on a sigil. Written on the wall in blood was the same symbol that another angel had used. “So what? Cas was fighting angels?” _

_ Dean hoped not. He hoped that he wasn’t standing in the middle of an angelic battlefield where the man he only recently realized he had feelings for is dead. They’d only known each other for a year and Dean wasn’t ready for goodbyes. It was too short a time to get to know someone and fall so hard. _

_ When Dean spotted him among the rubble, he felt his body go cold. “Cas? Hey! Cas!” When he grabbed his shoulder, ready to pull him up and pretend that the short contact was enough, he heard him gasp. It’ wasn’t Cas’ low voice. When his eyes opened, they didn’t shine with all the stars in the sky and speak of a past that holds the future. They held none of the worlds that Cas had seen and they held no recognition of Dean’s face. _

_ “I’m not Castiel. It’s me. Jimmy.” And then Dean remembered. Cas was just possessing some poor bastard. Some devout man who prayed for this. That man’s name was Jimmy and he had a family and a home. _

_ There shouldn’t have been relief when Cas returned to his vessel. Dean shouldn’t have felt the warmth spread through him. There shouldn’t have been a leap in his heart. But there was. All of it happened all at once as Cas opened his eyes again what felt like months later but was really only a few days. All of it happened as soon as he stood up and looked like himself again. Dean could breathe for the first time since he’d last been in the same room as that angel. That is. Until he said the words that stabbed into Dean deeper than any had before: “I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean. I serve Heaven. I don’t serve man, and I certainly don’t serve you.” _

Dean forces himself to get up. He feels the weight of a thousand worlds pressing him down, but he stands. He takes a few steps. And chokes, a sob tearing through him and making him cry out. He can see the light from the house shining. He can see the glint off a shined black shoe. He looks back at Cas. He remembers seeing him. He remembers shouting no as the light shone from his eyes and mouth. He remembers watching him crumple to the ground. He doesn’t remember falling to his knees. He doesn’t remember when he started crying. 

Black wings scorch the earth on either side of Cas. They’re impressive, spanning wide. Dean can see each feather. There was a time when he had seen them before. When they had proven to him that angels were real and that he had been saved by Heaven. He’d been saved by Cas. 

He kneels beside Cas and gently cradles him against his chest. Cas’ head rolls against his shoulder and it makes Dean’s stomach flips sickeningly. He presses his lips to Cas’ head, his tears falling into his thick hair. Pulling Cas tighter against him, Dean stands up. Cas’ legs hang limply over Dean’s arm. His tears stop as his heart goes cold. 

He walks into the house with Cas in his arms. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t leave him outside lying where he… He can’t leave him outside. Standing in the middle of the living room, Dean hugs Cas to him one last time. 

_“Castiel? Oh, he’s not here. He has this weakness. He likes you.”  
__  
_ _“My superiors have started to question my sympathies… I was getting too close to humans in my charge. You.”_

_ “When Castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost.” _

_ “I’d rather have you cursed or not.” _

_ “I’m hunted. I rebelled, and I did it all for you.” _

_ “You two have been flirting!” _

_ “We’re family. We need you. I need you.” _

_ “You’re my family. I love you. I love all of you.” _

_ “Dean and I do share a more profound bond.” _

_ “Sorry, you have me confused with the other angel. You know, the one in the dirty trench coat who’s in love with you.” _

_ “Sounds like you were meant to be.” _

_ “Hello, Dean.” _

_ “So, what? I’m Thelma and you’re Louise and we’re just gonna hold hands sail off this cliff together?”   
  
_

Dean eases Cas onto the dining table and smooths out his tie and coat. He rests Cas’ hands at his sides gently. He finds a sheet and delicately lays it over him, shielding him from the harsher, bleaker world. 

_ Mary was waiting in the library for Dean to pack what they needed before they left the bunker to rescue Sam. Dean poked his head out of his room when he heard Cas’ footsteps. _

_ “Cas.” His throat was dry, his mouth full of imaginary cotton balls as Cas turned and looked at him, his head tilted just so. _

_ “Dean,” Cas said gently as he walked toward him. Dean had pulled him into the room and closed the door, unwilling to share this moment with anyone or anything beyond the walls of his room. _

_ “I thought I was going to die,” Dean said simply. “I thought I was going to die without ever getting to tell you the truth about anything. I didn’t get to tell you how much I love you. That you make me crazy in every way. That you make me feel everything I never thought I could or was allowed to. That you make the fights worth fighting and the dreams worth having. I have loved you every moment since you saved me. I just didn’t know it until I prayed to you. I didn’t want to until I thought I lost you the first time you were dragged back to Heaven. You were lost when you put your hands on me in Hell, but I was found. I love you, Cas.” _

_“Dean.” His entire face had changed and Dean felt his stomach twist. “The first time I was dragged back to Heaven was because I had fallen in love with you. I have been tortured by my superiors for looking upon a human the way no angel is to look on any being. You made me rebel. You made my heart rebel. I felt joy and worry for the first time in my eons of existence. I felt love and fear of losing that love. I thought you died and the only thing that kept me tethered to this Earth was the promise I made to watch after your brother in your stead. I am and always will be in love with you, Dean Winchester. Cursed or not.” _  
  


Dean doesn’t know what to do with himself. He needs to give Cas a proper burial. He needs to make sure Sam is okay. He needs to kill the kid that started this whole thing. He doesn’t care if it’s a baby. He doesn’t care if killing the most powerful being on the planet right now could kill him. Living isn’t on his list of things to do anymore. The light of the universe has gone cold and Dean can’t feel anything besides the shards of his broken heart ripping at his insides, lacerating and making him bleed out. 

Time moves differently now that Dean’s given up. It moves too quickly and too slowly all at once. It blurs together and he can’t tell how it still seems to be passing when his heart has stopped.

He doesn’t remember going up the stairs and pulling the trigger. He doesn’t remember how he managed to drive, but all of the sudden he’s praying to a god that isn’t listening for an angel that’s gone and he can’t feel the wood biting into his knuckles as he punches the stupid sign on the door. He doesn’t feel the sign break. He doesn’t care. He keeps punching, gritting his teeth as he tries not to scream. 

He’s numb when he finds himself sitting in a chair opposite a police officer. He doesn’t know what role he’s supposed to be playing and he really doesn’t care. His knuckles are still bloody and he’s wearing cuffs now. There’s a splinter embedded in the skin, but he just looks away from it and up at the officer. 

“My name is Dean Winchester. That big fella in there is my brother, Sam. We kill monsters.” 

“Monsters?” 

“Mm.” If he cared, he might lessen the blow. He might give the whole talk about things that go bump in the night and the shadow in the moon at night. He might have once. He can’t now. 

“Like…?”

“Have you ever seen a horror movie?” 

“Mhm.”

“Like that.” A horror movie that doesn’t end. The end credits never role even after the main character is killed by Lucifer. Rosemary’s Baby without Rosemary. 

“So, what are you? Some kind of superhero?” 

“I’m just a guy doing a job.” 

Dean tears the curtains. He’s never done this, but he’s read about it. The grieving widow, parent, child of the … of the… He tears another strip. The grieving widow will bind the body, protecting them in their shroud as they pass from this world. He pulls the knot and feels a stab in his gut. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. Of all the moments for time to come to a grinding halt, this is not the one he wants to live in slow motion. 

He’s never done this before. He’s done too many hunter’s funerals, but never like this. His hands are shaking as he finishes the last knot. The only thing he knows to do now is to build the pyre. He doesn’t allow the help that’s offered. It isn’t anyone’s place but his. 

Dean doesn’t know how much time has passed. He doesn’t really know how he got all the way to a gas station or why Sam is the one filling the car. He doesn’t remember getting out of the car either, but here he is, standing in the grass trying to breathe. 

He turns on his phone. It buzzes with the frantic missed calls and texts all with the same name: Donna. He presses call and holds the phone up to his ear, wincing when she picks up on the first ring.

“Dean!”

“He’s dead,” Dean says for the first time. He swallows hard and closes his eyes tight. Tears still escape, sliding down his cheeks. He didn’t know he still had the ability after sobbing for so long. He takes a deep breath and on the exhale says, “Cas is dead.” 

“No. Dean, I… I’m sorry. I…” 

“He’s gone and I can still feel the weight of him in my arms. I can still see his eyes in the sky and hear his voice in the wind. I keep checking the damn mirror to make sure he’s there and all I see is the devil’s kid. I’m having a nightmare and I can’t wake up and I have to because I need him here with me.” 

“Breathe,” Donna says. 

“I can’t!” Dean looks over his shoulder and sees Sam is finishing up. He forces another deep breath that feels like needles are lining his lungs. “I have to go.”

“Be safe, Dean.” 


	14. Chapter 14

Weeks passed in the same blur of angry, sad, numb moments. Moments of shouting, crying, and staring at every weapon like it’s the right medicine to cure his severely broken heart. The days slip by and the condolences are passed to him and all he can do is answer the texts that light up his phone every day. 

“Donna, I said I’m fine,” Dean says, after she picks up. 

“You haven’t sounded fine and still don’t.” She’s worried and she has every right to be. 

“I miss him,” Dean breathes. He clears his throat and sits up. “Look, I’m about to go out on a case.”

“A case? Shouldn’t you be letting yourself rest?” If it were up to her, Dean would be in the bunker with a big mug of cocoa. The liquor would be poured down the sink and he’d have hugs on demand. 

“I need to keep moving. I need to keep hunting. Otherwise, time stops and… I have a job to do,” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He’s exhausted. He can’t keep moving. He has to keep moving. He finishes filling the syringes and packs them into the unassuming tin. 

“Call me after.” It’s a demand he doesn’t know he’ll be able to promise to. 

“Yeah,” he says noncommittally as he tosses his way out into his hunting bag and zipping it up. “Thanks, Donna.”

“For what?”

“Being here.” 

“Oh, Dean.” Fuck, he made her cry. “Just come back.”

“I always do.” He sighs. “Alright. Bye, sis.” He didn’t mean to say it, but there it is. He hangs up before she can tell that he’s really saying goodbye. 

“One needle stops the heart, the other one starts it up again,” Dean says quickly. What a weird time for time to slow down enough to be present again. He looks up at his baby brother who is shaking his head quickly. 

“No, no, no!” 

“Look, we can’t talk to ‘em on this side of the veil, so I’m gonna go to the other side. I’m gonna work my way through all these Caspers until I find out where this freak hid the bodies.” For the record, he hopes it works, but he’s fine if it doesn’t. He’s okay if it takes longer than three minutes and dies, like permanently. It has to be him. The world still needs Sam, but the world already chewed Dean up and was about to spit him out again. 

“Dean, you’re talking about killing yourself!” 

“Yeah? well…” Dean grabs his syringe. He’s ready for it to go south. “It worked before.” 

“Dean!”

Dean plunges the needle into his heart and gasps. Pain spreads through him and when he tries to breathe back in, his lungs don’t allow it. He can hear Sam, just barely, as he falls, calling his name. 

Waking up is the hardest part. Waking up and hearing Sam’s relief while feeling his own mild disappointment is the worst part. He has to live to see another day, another job, another apocalypse, another god damned second. 

His phone rings and he’s sure it’s Donna. He didn’t check in after the hunt. He had planned on it later when he was alone in his room and had let the long drive home wash the residue of his death off. He picks up the phone as Sam jerks awake next to him. 

“Yeah,” he says, not bothering to check the caller ID as he drives. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas’ deep voice says. Dean freezes. He stops breathing and he doesn’t dare move his hand on the wheel. “Dean?” 

“What?” Sam asks. 

“Where are you?” Dean asks, trying to keep the tears from rolling as he chokes. He listens to the description carefully, clinging to the sound of his voice.

“What?” Sam asks again. 

“Stay there,” Dean demands. 

“Dean,” Cas says gently. It’s all Dean can hear. “Hurry. I love you.” 

“I’m on my way,” Dean promises breathlessly. He drops his phone onto the seat and pushes the gas pedal into the floor. His hands are shaking and he can’t make it stop. He feels like he’s going to throw up. The only thing to do is to go faster. 

For the first time since he held Cas against him as he wept, he feels rooted to this moment. He can’t hear Sam or the roar of the car over the pounding of his heart and the echo of Cas’ voice, “ _ I love you.”  _

He only slows down when he makes the final turn into the alley that Cas described over the phone. He can see him standing by the payphone, lit only by a single streetlight. The car is barely in park before Dean flings his door open and gets out. 

“Cas,” he exhales shakily. Cas turns and it’s him. It’s really him with his blue eyes shining and his chapped lips parted as he lets out a breath he must have been holding. Dean runs to him. He doesn’t care that Sam is there. He doesn’t care that no one knows about them. He can not and will not go another second without his boyfriend in his arms. “Is it really you?”

“Yes,” Cas says as their foreheads touch. Dean’s hands caress his face as their eyes lock. 

“No, you died. You died, and I… You were… You died, Cas. I couldn’t…” Dean feels himself crying, but Cas’ thumb wipes away every tear. 

“Yeah, I was,” he says gently. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m so sorry.”

“How?”

“I… I annoyed an ancient cosmic being so much that he sent me back.” 

Dean half laughs before finally kissing him. Their lips collide and Dean has never tasted anything so sweet. His lips are soft and his mouth is warm. He tastes like joy and home. He feels Cas’ arms around him, molding them together perfectly as to leave no space between them at all. 

“Cas,” Dean says it just to say it. Their lips are still connected, the name being swallowed up by both of them. 

“Dean,” Cas answers, their kiss finally breaking as Cas buries his face in Dean’s neck. Dean turns his face so his cheek is pressed against Cas’ head. 

“I don’t even know what to say,” Sam says breathlessly behind them. Dean reluctantly lets go of Cas and turns around to face his brother. He feels Cas’ fingers slide between his and he holds on hard, unsure if he can face having any of the conversations that are coming up. 

“I do,” Dean says, walking toward the car. “Let’s go home.” 

Cas slides into the backseat and stares into the rearview mirror to meet Dean’s eyes. “How long have I been gone?” he asks softly as Sam gets back into the front seat, still at a loss for words. 

“Too damn long,” Dean says. He’s not sure. Honestly, it’s probably been about a month, but it feels like it’s been years. For all Dean’s heart can tell, he’s been without Cas for centuries. 

“Where were you?” Sam asks, turning in his seat to face Cas as Dean pulls out of the alleyway and back onto the highway. 

“I… I was in the Empty,” Cas answers. 

“The Empty?” Dean repeats.

“It’s where angels and demons go when they die.”

Dean is expecting to wake up at any moment. Cas being dead was a nightmare, but him coming back is too good a dream to be real. It doesn’t feel real. None of it does. 

“What was it like?” Sam presses. 

“It was dark… and…nothing.” Cas’ eyes drop from the mirror to his hands in his lap and Dean forces his eyes back to the empty road in front of him. “It’s like… nothing.” It’s not unlike what Dean had felt. The world had gone dark and he had nothing. “I was sleeping and then I heard a voice that said my name and I woke up. I thought you had done something.”

Dean looks into the mirror again and his eyes lock with Cas’. The color is back and Dean is drowning in blue. 

“When did this happen?” Sam asks. 

Dean’s eyes drop from the mirror as his heart plummets into his stomach. He knows he did this to himself. Somewhere, deep inside, Dean still thinks he’s not allowed this love. He’s held it close to his heart, afraid to share it with anyone else. 

“Anyone going to answer?” Sam asks. He doesn’t sound mad, but that only makes Dean’s stomach twist. Sam isn’t the one who made Dean feel like he would never be loved. If anything, Sam had always been a sign of hope. Despite all that he’s been through, the kid still tries. 

“A year,” Dean mumbles. He should have told him sooner. He could have told him when he’d realized he had a crush, like brothers do. He could have, but he wasn’t ready then. He could have told him during the countless times they were alone after Dean and Cas had first kissed. He should have told him at some point between falling in love with Cas, and confessing it. He’d told Donna but still kept the actual relationship a secret. He doesn’t know why. Maybe once everyone knows, it’ll crumble. Maybe, right after Dean decided he was allowed to be with Cas, someone else would decide otherwise. 

“I’m happy for you,” Sam says. “About time,” he adds under his breath as he turns to look out the window. The knots in Dean’s stomach untie themselves as his face heats up. 

“Excuse me? What the fuck does that mean?  _ About time _ ?” 

“It means the reign of terror is over. No more pining for each other silently. No more gazing across the table like you’re being subtle.” Sam laughs as Dean shoves him. He would have liked to do this sooner. “Who made the first move? There’s money on the answer,” Sam says after a moment. 

“Shut up,” Dean warns, though he can feel himself smiling. 

“Dean,” Cas answers from the backseat.

“Well, I lost,” Sam sighs. More seriously he adds, “I am happy for you two.” 

“Thanks, Sammy.” 

Dean knows it’s time. He had kept his relationship a secret for a year because he had been afraid that telling a single soul would somehow ruin it. They would be judged on multiple counts. An angel? With a human? It’ll never last. He’ll have to watch you die. Why would you do that to him? Two men? Together? Yes, two men together. It’s the twenty-first century. Dean Winchester is allowed to be bisexual or pansexual or whatever it is that allows him to love who he loves. If they weren’t judged, would they break up? Were they able to date in such a fucked up world? If they weren’t judged and didn’t break up, would one of them die? That. That had happened and Dean had never even told his brother he had fallen in love. The worst of the three catastrophes that had kept him silent had happened. It was time to tell his closest friends the truth. 

“Ready?” Dean asks, looking to Cas. Sam is back at the bunker with the kid. He agreed to spend time with Jack so Dean and Cas could pay Donna Hanscum a well-deserved visit. 

“Ready,” Cas answers, squeezing Dean’s hand tight before letting go and getting out of the car. 

Dean feels excited for the first time in a long time. He’s excited for Donna to meet the light of his life, the cause of his past heartache, his happiness wrapped in a trenchcoat. He’s excited to tell her that he told him how he feels, that he listened to her advice, that Cas loves him back. He knocks on the door and grips Cas’ hand. 

The door opens and Donna’s jaw drops. She looks from Dean to Cas with her eyes wide before she throws her arms around Cas, hugging him to her tightly. Cas lets go of Dean’s hand to hug her back. 

“I thought you were dead!” Donna says, her voice muffled in Cas’ shoulder. 

“Wait, what am I missing?” Dean asks. Donna lets go of Cas and grabs Dean before he can ask any more questions. 

“You’re okay!” Her voice is filled with relief, but her arms are tight enough that Dean is sure she’s never letting go of him. 

“I’m okay,” Dean sighs, relaxing into her embrace and squeezing her gently. He didn’t think he ever would be again, but here he is. He’s okay. 

“I was so worried, Dean,” she sighs. He was worried too. He doesn’t say it. That’s not what this visit is for. 

“You ever letting go?” He asks with a smirk.

“No!” She does step away though. “Get your butts inside,” she grins. 

“How do you two know each other?” Dean asks as she closes the door behind them. Donna isn’t very good at hiding her emotions. She might as well write the world guilt on her forehead with sharpie for the look she’s got on right now. 

“We met while you were in prison,” Cas says as if this was common knowledge. Donna bites her lip. 

“Was anyone going to tell me?” 

“Were you going to tell me you two kissed?” Donna asks, arms crossing over her chest as she fixes him with that look that says she knows more than he knew. Fuck. 

“Cas!” He groans. “Well, I  _ was _ coming here to tell you that we are officially a couple and that I would like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Castiel.”

“I’m so happy for you two,” Donna gushes, hugging both of them to her at the same time, pulling them down so their heads are just above her shoulders. “About time,” she squeals. When she lets them go, she waves to the living room, offering them the seats there while she goes to the kitchen to grab drinks. 

“How?” Dean asks as he sits on the couch and Cas sits next to him. He sits so close, there’s no space in between them. He’s practically in his lap. Dean doesn’t move. 

“She was concerned about you and invited me over. She’s very persuasive,” Cas says evenly. “She’s also very easy to talk to.” 

Donna comes back in with two mugs of coffee and hands one to Dean as she takes her seat on the opposite couch. She’s grinning ear to ear and the sunlight she’s filled with seems to glow from her skin. 

“Are you part of the bet?” Dean asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Oh. You know about that…” She chews on her lip before taking a bigger sip than necessary from her mug. 

“Yeah, I know about that,” Dean smiles. He can’t help it. She’s adorable and Cas is holding his hand and the entire world seems to be bright and filled with color and beauty. “Who else?”

“Jodes and Sam are the only ones I know, but Sam said there were more bets in the pot.” 

“You did bet on me, right?” Dean asks. She better have bet on him. It was practically through her coaching that got him to be able to say anything. 

“I’m not a total goof, Dean.” Donna rolls her eyes. “I am going to need to know what the fudge happened though.” 

“I already told you about the kiss,” Cas says and Dean feels himself blush. 

“Oh, you’re red as a tomato,” Donna laughs. Dean ducks his head and scratches the back of his head, unsure of what else to do to hide his burning cheeks. “I mean, what the heck happened that I thought I lost both of you in one go, huh?” 

“Dean?” 

Dean can feel his heart beating. It’s a strange feeling. It’s usually something that goes unnoticed. Usually, he can only feel it pounding out Cas’ name as they stare at each other or feel it trying to leap into Cas’ chest when they hug or kiss. Right now, he can feel his heart. He can hear Donna’s worried voice through the sound of his sobs as he knelt beside Cas. He can feel the poison sliding through his veins in that haunted house. 

“Dean?” Cas asks again, his hand tightening. 

“I’m fine,” Dean says, grabbing his coffee and drinking the rest of it which is the entire mug minus the one tiny sip from earlier. “A lot happened.” 

“I gathered that much,” Donna nods. 

Why can’t he talk? He’s trying to tell her. He wants to tell her. Lucifer came back. All of his friends are dead. They adopted the son of Lucifer and his mom is dead. Again. When Cas died he’d given up on everything and he’s still got whiplash from the reunion. Why can’t he say any of it? He tried to kill himself. He did kill himself. Death just wasn’t having it and sent him back. Just say the words, Dean. His mouth is filled with cotton balls and the room is both too hot and ice cold. His knuckles are white as he clings to Cas’ hand. 

“Lucifer is back,” Cas says, breaking Dean’s spiral. Silently, Dean thanks him by relaxing his grip and taking a deep breath. He closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of Cas’ voice as he fills Donna in. He doesn’t know everything, but he knows the important parts. 

“Oofta,” Donna says when he’s finished. “Dean? You okay?” 

He looks up at her. There was a time when she was just another police officer standing in the way of an investigation, blowing their cover and trying to recover from a bad breakup. Now, this is his best friend. She’s killed vampires, brought him a case about haunted costumes, and takes the crazy shit he lives with in stride. She’s who he tells everything to. She’s who he calls when he’s at the top of the world, gushing about Cas, or laying in the dirt, beaten and broken. She is his ray of sunshine. 

“Aces,” he smiles. 


	15. Chapter 15

Dean is stretched out on his bed with a book over his face. There’s no good way for him to face anything that’s happened recently. He had feared that coming out with his relationship would somehow doom it to fail or separate them somehow. Now Cas is missing.

He flips backward a page, having read through three pages without absorbing any of the story. Jack made it to the alternate universe where Mary is somehow still alive. The girl that made it possible? She’s dead. She died on a rescue mission for him and his brother. Cas had answered Dean’s phone call, but something was wrong and now he’s not answering any text or call. Something’s wrong. 

Dean sighs and starts the chapter over, flipping back a few more pages. Cas is missing, Jack is in another universe trying to save Mary, Claire is traumatized and it’s Dean’s fault again, and he ate a lizard. 

He sighs and gets up. Sam is usually up by now, banging around in the kitchen and stomping through the hallways before acting surprised that he woke Dean up with his general loudness. The bunker is silent. There’s no rush of wings to announce Cas’ return. There’s no sounds of Sam coming back into the bunker after a jog. Likely because there was never sounds of Sam leaving the bunker to go for a jog. 

“Yo!” Dean shouts through Sam’s door. “Makin’ pancakes! How many do you want?” 

With no answer, he sighs and walks away. He knows this is hard on Sam too. He just doesn’t know how to keep them both up without pretending. He can hear Frank’s voice in his head telling him to force a smile. He does smile as he makes the pancake batter. He can do this. He can smile and he can keep going. Cas is only missing this time. He’ll get him back. Jack is in another universe, but it’s fine. They’ll get him back too. It’s better than it was. 

Dean plops the first pancake onto a plate next to the stove. The first is always the fail, uneven and not perfectly circular. It’s still a pancake though so Dean eats it as he continues cooking, tearing off a piece here and there. He piles three onto his plate and turns off the stove, moving to the dining table. 

He sighs and tries not to focus on the empty seats that surround him. Sam should be sitting across from him. Cas’ knee should be touching his under the table. Jack’s place has been beside Sam. Now, Dean sits alone. He pours the syrup on and digs in, keeping his eyes on his plate.

He washes his dishes quietly before going back to the stove and starting on another batch. If Sam isn’t up by the time these are ready, he’s dragging that samquatch out of bed by the ankles. He looks at the box of pancake mix and frowns. There’s strawberries and raspberries and green stuff around the pancakes. Dean pulls open the fridge to see if they even have any of that frilly stuff that Sam probably likes. The empty fridge reminds Dean that they haven’t been shopping in awhile. He makes a mental note that they should probably do that. 

Sam walks in with his hair unbrushed and his pajamas still on. Not that Dean’s judging, but dude.

“Oh ho ho, there he is,” Dean says as he checks his watch. Ten in the morning. “Saved you a short stack.” 

“Hey, Donna. I’m here with Dean. I’m gonna put you on speaker.” Dean’s heart sinks and he pats his pocket. His phone is still in his room. He hopes it’s another weird case of haunted costumes or maybe an out of control vamp nest. “Why don’t you tell him what you told me.” 

“Oh. It’s my niece.” She’s been crying. She’s been crying and Dean didn’t have his dumb brick of a phone. If he had it his way, he would be there in a heartbeat. “She’s gone missing and the local cops don’t… I know it’s not your normal thing, but…”

“Text us the address, we’re on our way.” His protective instincts take over. It doesn’t matter if it’s his kind of thing or not. She’s family. He would march into Hell for her if she asked. 

“Thanks.” 

Dean immediately goes to his room to check his phone. Five missed calls from Donna. He swears under his breath as he unplugs it. The screen lights up with a new text from her.

“Be there soon,” he promises. He shoves his phone in his pocket and packs up some clothes. They’re going to need their fed suits for sure. He throws in some of his regular clothes and zips up his bag, ready to leave now. 

“Dean.” Sam stops him in the hallway.

“We’ve got somewhere to be,” Dean reminds him, pushing past to get to the garage. 

“Slow your roll. I haven’t showered and I’m not dressed.” 

“Not my fault you took a hundred-year nap, princess,” Dean says. “Throw on some clothes and let’s get moving. You can shower when we get to the motel.” 

“You heard her, man. This isn’t even our kind of thing. Are you sure we should be getting involved?” 

“Yes,” is all Dean says. He leaves Sam behind in the hallway and starts packing up the car. He makes sure they have all of their fake IDs and gets in the car. He waits impatiently, drumming his hands on the wheel and playing with the garage door. 

“Dude, how old are you?” Sam asks as he finally takes his place in the passenger seat.

“Never a—”

“Never ask a woman her age. Yeah, I remember,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s right.” Dean nods and starts the car. 

Dean had never expected to be the friend called in a crisis that didn’t involve some unwanted pest: a poltergeist, a ghost, vamp, zombie, whatever. He never expected to be the guy anyone would call for a personal crisis. He was a guy without any friends because friends were people you had to lie to. Friends died. Friends complicated the whole job of slicing and dicing monsters. Not this friend. This friend, Dean had reluctantly led into a vamp nest. This friend was crying and calling for backup from feds she knows aren’t feds. And Dean is going because she needs him. 

It’s only a few hours until Dean has them checked into a motel room. Sam is in the shower. He had been right to warn Dean before getting in the car. They’d kept the windows down the entire drive. Dean ties his tie in the mirror and tucks his FBI badge into his coat. 

Memories of Cas holding his FBI badge upside down start to creep in at the edges of Dean’s mind. He’s missing, not gone. He’ll find him. Dean repeats that to himself silently as he grabs his phone and calls Donna. 

“Dean?” 

“Hey.” He doesn’t know how to help her other than tell him that he will be there soon. He seemed to do okay with the hug when she was shattered after that kill, but this is different. There doesn’t seem to be anything he can say. “We’re changing into our fed suits and we’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?” 

“Thanks… Dean?” She sounds like she’s on the verge of crying again. She sounds like the sunshine she embodies has leaked out of her with the rest of her tears. She’s never sounded like this before and it breaks Dean’s heart. 

“Yeah?” 

“What if she’s already gone?” 

His heart feels like a stone sinking through him to land as a weight in the soles of his shoes. “She’s not. We’ll find her and bring her home. You hear me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll see you soon.” If he was the kind to end phone calls with  _ “I love you,” _ he would right now. He’s not, so he stays on the line, silently, for the extra moment that it would take to say it. She doesn’t hang up either. He hears her take a shuttered breath before he ends the call. 

Dean bangs his fist on the bathroom door, ready to leave without Sam if he doesn’t turn that shower off soon. In response to his impolite knocking, Sam does turn the water off. 

“I’ll be out in a minute!” he calls. Dean rolls his eyes and sits on the edge of his bed to pull his shoes on.   
  
  


Pulling up, Dean can see her truck. She’s leaning against it in jeans and the brown coat she loves. Her hair is down, moving gently with the wind. The sky is gray, the sun hiding from the sad day. Dean parks and takes a deep breath before stepping out of the car. 

“Hey, Donna,” Sam greets her as they approach. She snaps to the present, her eyes focusing back in from where they had been looking into what if’s. 

“Hey.” She forces a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She hugs Sam, going on tiptoe to get her arms around him even as he leans down. She looks to Dean and steps into his arms immediately after her hug with Sam is over. 

“How you holding up?” he asks as he wraps his arms around her. She presses her cheek against his shoulder for a moment before letting go and stepping back. 

“Oh, you know. Not great.” The smile slips and she presses her lips together. “I’m sorry for callin’ you guys, but Jody’s got her hands full with the girls…” 

“Hey. Never apologize for callin’ us.” He wants to apologize for not having been there to answer his damn phone this morning. He wants to pull her in for a hug that doesn’t end until her niece is safe. 

“So, what do we know?” Sam asks, stepping into his role. 

“Uh, staties found her car… side of the road. Signs of a struggle.” She’s not even his niece and he’s ready to tear whatever dirtbag took her to pieces. 

“And what was she doing out here?” Sam continues his investigation. 

“She was takin’ a gap year,” Donna says with mixed amounts of pride and guilt. “It’s, like, this thing where—”

“Take a year off, run wild before college?” Dean finishes for her. 

“Mhm. Yeah.” She nods and smiles a little again. “I used to tell her about how much fun I had when I did it. Well, she thought that sounded like an adventure. She thought…” Her voice cracks and she sucks in a harsh breath.

“Donna. Hey,” Dean says, rooting her to the moment. She looks into his eyes and he sees all of her fears mapped out in the tears that are shining there. “Whatever happened, it’s not your fault.”

“That’s what Doug keeps tellin’ me, but… I can’t help think—”

“Just focus on the case,” Sam interrupts the train of thought. She nods, but this isn’t her case. This is her life. She’s not here as a cop, wearing her blue uniform and tight ponytail. She’s here because of family. 

“Doug here?” Dean looks toward the open doors that he expects has the evidence and other cops. 

“Yeah. He’s in there, talkin’ to the locals.” 

“I’ll go check-in.” He leaves Donna with Sam as he walks into the massive room where her niece’s car is. The worst part is that the car doesn’t look like a monster took her. Monster’s he gets. Humans are crazy. There’s a spike wedged into her tire. Not the kind that’s any kind of accidental. It turns Dean’s stomach. 

“Hey!” a man shouts. Dean straightens and looks toward the noise. An older man is walking toward him, clearly agitated. “What’re you doin’?” 

“Oh, I, um…” Dean gestures to the car as he tries to find the right words. He’s here for a friend? He’s here on a case? He’s here and completely out of his element because this is the first time in a long time that he’s impersonated an officer in a non-monster case? 

“I asked you a question, son.” 

“First off, I’m not your son,” Dean says, standing to his full height and squaring his shoulders. “Second—”

“Whoa, whoa, easy!” Doug says as he walks over, ready to stand between them in case of a fight. “Agent Clegg, this is Agent Savage, FBI.” Doug is notably missing his own uniform. His mustache almost works with the puffy vest he’s got on. Almost. 

“Oh. Company man,” the old guy says. “Wow, you should’ve told me.” 

“Well, I didn’t get the chance,” Dean says with a smile as he bites the inside of his cheek. He’s ready to punch this guy. He doesn’t trust him and he doesn’t like him and he wishes he had the authority to order him off of his crime scene. 

“Uh-huh. And what field office are you out of? I’m just curious who I should call about you walking through my crime scene.” 

“Mm.” Dean looks to Doug and only sees a shocked face looking back at him. If Doug weren’t here, he might throw a punch. He’s not in the mood. His best friend’s niece is missing, his mom is in another universe, his boyfriend is missing, and his brother is depressed. Today is not a great day. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Uh, I’m not here on official business. The victim, she’s family. She’s my cousin, so I’m just here to get some answers.”

“Oh.” The old guy’s entire demeanor changes. Yes, Dean remembers his name, and yes, it does feel good to only refer to him as an old man in his head. “I can respect that. All right, come on. I’ll fill you in.” 

“Yeah.” Dean takes a step to follow him out of the room, but Doug stops him. 

“Sorry,” he says as he grabs Dean’s arm. “You and Donna are related?” 

Fuck. He did say that, didn’t he? I mean, he’s called Donna a cousin, and sister, and now he’s referred to her niece as his cousin. He really needs to figure out his chosen family tree. “Yeah.” 

“So you were in Sioux Falls a couple'a weeks ago at the family reunion.” 

Family reunion? Sioux Falls? A couple weeks ago? “I  _ was _ there.” Oh. When Jody called her to help find him and Sam after they’d fallen into the Bad Place. That was the lie she told? A family reunion? Close enough. She got to see Jody and the girls and when she’d hugged Dean, she had acknowledged his slip up of calling her his sister. “Yeah.” 

“Donna said it was a pretty wild time.” 

“It was wild.”

Poor Doug. Maybe she’ll let him in someday. Maybe he’ll be invited on hunts and then he can go to the actual family reunions. He’s good to Donna. He’s gone slow and let her take the lead. Dean has the texts to prove how much she cares about him. Dean’s glad he’s here. He’s glad that Donna is allowing him to be here for her. She needs all the support she can get. 

“Absolutely,” Dean says with a forced laugh as he makes his exit. Just wild. 


	16. Chapter 16

Dean wakes up and shuts his alarm off with a grunt. Today he has a meeting with a trucker while Sam goes to the station with Donna. There’s too many reasons why they did it this way. For one, they both remember how Dean handled interrogations when his emotions were running high after Purgatory. He’d nearly killed their suspect. Second, if he had to look at that old man, Clegg’s face one more time he might snap. Third, Sam didn’t believe in the power of trucker gossip. 

Dean grabs the pillow next to him, the one his face isn’t buried in, and throws it at Sam lazily. He doesn’t bother to check if it made it. His eyes are dipping closed again. 

“I’m awake,” Sam says, his voice very unsleepy. 

“Oh, so yesterday you sleep until ten and today you’re up at the crack of dawn?” Dean grumbles.

“I was awake yesterday too,” Sam snaps back. Dean lifts his head and looks over at his brother’s bed. Sam is still in bed, his laptop resting on his knees. 

“Aw, dude, you couldn’t wait until I wasn’t here?” Dean shoves his face back in his pillows.

“Gross! I’m not… It... I wasn’t…” He sighs and Dean laughs. “You’re so gross.” 

“I know you are but what am I?” Dean pushes himself up and makes a face at his brother before going into the bathroom and turning on the shower. 

Dean sighs as he looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t look midwestern trucker enough. He looks like a hot guy wearing a flannel. When he puts his jacket on, he’s just another hunter. He sighs and digs through his bag again. He has never tried to be a trucker before. It’s a blessing and a curse to be fashionable. 

He pulls out his phone and ignores his heart skipping a beat when he scrolls past Cas’ name in his phone. He taps Doug’s name and holds the phone up to his ear as he grabs Sam’s bag and starts pulling out all of his shirts and tossing them onto the bed. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey Doug, it’s Dean. Weird favor. Sam is going to need a ride to the precinct. I’m following a possible lead.” 

“You betcha. Donna is heading down that way soon. Does she have the address of where you’re stayin’?”

“Yeah. I was also wondering if I could borrow one of your vests.” He cringes at his own request. The things Dean will wear for this job. He shakes his head at himself. 

“Uh, sure. Yah.” No questions asked, he says yes. “Do you mind if I tag along with you while Sam goes with Donna? She said she doesn’t want me there today.”

“Oh, uh.” Dean stops throwing Sam’s clothes everywhere. “Sure. Always good to have backup.” 

The call ends and Dean looks at the bathroom door. It’s still closed and the shower is still running. He grabs the room key and walks outside, his shoes still untied. He’s called Cas millions of times, but each time he doesn’t get an answer, his heart sinks. 

“If I pray to you at the same time as leaving a voicemail, will you hear it?” Dean asks Cas’ voicemail box after the beep. “Worth a shot. Cas, I know you said you were fine. That was weeks ago. I miss you. Please come back, even just to tell me you’re fine and go off on your fake lead again… I hate talking to machines.” He sighs and rests his head against the wall next to the door. “I miss you, Cas. Come home to me.” He hangs up and slips his phone back into his pocket as he looks at the sun shining off of his car. 

“Dean!” Sam yells. Dean grins as he listens to Sam swear about his clothes being strewn everywhere in the room. 

“What’re we doin’ here?” Doug asks as Dean parks in front of a diner. 

“I’m meeting someone who might have a lead here.” He grabs the olive green puffy vest that Doug brought him and pulls it on. “We’ll take two tables. You’ll sit with your back to us so you can hear.”

“And not rouse suspicion,” he nods. Dean tries not to stare at his mustache and fails. 

“Alright, let’s do this,” he says as he turns away and pushes open his door. Doug follows him in and takes the seat behind Dean. A waitress comes over with a pitcher of coffee and offers it to Dean. 

“Both, thanks,” he says with a smile. She nods and fills both of the cups on the table before promising to return soon with some menus. 

It’s not long before a woman walks in. Her hair is in a fluffy mohawk and she’s wearing a jean jacket. She looks around and raised her eyebrows in question when she spots Dean. 

“Midnight Rider?” she asks as she approaches. 

“That’s me,” he says, shaking her hand. She takes the seat opposite him and thanks the waitress as she drops the menus on the table between them. 

“So, this girl of yours,” she says.

“Mm. You saw her that night?” 

“Yeah. Twice.” She plays with her mug but doesn’t take a sip. It looks like whatever she saw is eating her up. “Usually, I-I try to stay out of this stuff. I just run my route and keep out of trouble. But…” She sighs and Dean can feel the remorse that’s radiating from her. “That night… That girl…” She looks down into her coffee. Dean wishes he could see the memory that is haunting this woman. “Like I said, I saw her twice. Uh, once at a station off Highway 26, and then later, I was driving off road 88 and... “ And that was right before she was taken, a spike wedged into her tire. “I shouldn’t have left her there. But, um, I was running behind schedule and I just… Well, it’s the only reason I gassed up there. That place gives me the creeps.”

“And what’s this place called?” He’s ready to go. 

“Manny’s Truck Stop Cafe.” 

Dean let’s go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He has a name. He has something to go on and it feels more real. “Thank you,” he says, digging into his pocket for his wallet. “Breakfast’s on me.” He presses a few bills to the table as he gets up. 

He walks out of the diner without having touched his coffee or ordering anything and pulls out his phone to look up the truck stop while he waits for Doug to stagger his exit. 

When the passenger door opens, Dean looks up from the map on his phone. 

“We need to find out everything there is to know about this truck stop,” Dean says. 

“I can do that. I’ve got some friends up at the station here. They don’t take too kindly to strangers though.” Doug’s mustache moves as he presses his lips together. 

“Okay,” Dean nods. “I’ll drop you off there and we’ll meet up later.” Doug nods in agreement as Dean starts the car. “Thanks, Doug.”

“Oh, you betcha.” 

While Doug was at the station collecting every possible thing on the creepy truck stop, Dean changed into his fed suit again and tried to dig on the internet for anything about disappearances near the truck stop, the type of spike used to flatten the tire, and all of Wendy Hanscum’s social media. 

“Got that report you asked for,” Doug says as he gets back in the car hours later. He hands Dean a folder that’s thinner than he’d like. “Everything that’s gone down at Manny’s Truck Stop Cafe lately.” 

“And?” Dean asks as he opens it and starts flipping through the pages. 

“Coupl’a D&Ds, four counts of public urination, but…” 

“Nothin’ that screams secret hunting ground for a kidnapper.” Dean can’t help but keep the disappointment out of his voice. 

“Not exactly,” Doug agrees. Dean shuts the file and starts the ignition. They both know where they’re going. “Can I ask you a question?” Or not? Dean’s about to explain that he’s driving them to Manny’s when Doug follows up with, “About Donna?” 

Dean glances over at him. He’s not sure what he would be able to answer about Donna. There’s a pit in his stomach but he nods. “Okay.” 

“Is she gonna be okay?” That wasn’t what Dean was expecting. “I mean, I love Donna, but I’ve only known her for a coupl’a years, and this… I’ve never seen her like this.” 

He loves her. Doug loves her freely enough to admit it to the whole world. He’s a good guy. Dean remembers poking fun at Donna and trying to get her to ask him out. He remembers howling, “Lonnie!” and her yelling at him. He remembers when they started dating and she was taking it so slowly she was sure he was going to turn tail and leave. He didn’t, and from the look on his mustached face, he’s not going to. 

Dean has never seen her like this either. He hopes he never will again. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he lies. He knows exactly what he means. She’s devastated as anyone should be over a lost family member. She’s quiet and tearful and distant. She’s blaming herself and probably replaying all of the conversations she ever had with her niece on repeat in her mind. 

“I mean, she’s barely talkin’ to me, and we always talk. About the Vikes, about the Real Housewives, about everything.” Doug pauses, looking for the right words as he sighs. 

Dean gives him a moment, driving as he remembers the night he found out Real Housewives was her guilty pleasure and he’d let it slip that Dr. Sexy was his. 

“This is a tough time, I know, but I think she’s hiding something from me.” She is. One thing, but it has nothing to do with this distance. “Anyhoo, forget it. It’s probably nothin’. I’m probably just spinnin’. It’s nothin’.” 

“Doug,” Dean glances over at him, “you’re a good guy. And you’re gonna be there for Donna.” 

“You betcha,” Doug answers even though they both know it wasn’t a question. 

“So, you know, just… Trust her. Okay?” It’s not his job to tell Doug about monsters or that he’s not really Donna’s relative. It’s not his place to tell Doug that he used to be a stranger who reluctantly invited Donna into a life of hunting monsters that Doug doesn’t believe in. Not right now anyway. Right now, everyone has to focus on getting Wendy back safe and helping Donna cope until that happens. 

Doug nods. He can do that. He can trust her and remain at her side and let his spiraling thoughts of secrets and silence go quiet. 

“Do you think she knows? That I love her, I mean… I tell her. I do. I just hope she knows it.” 

“She knows,” Dean says quietly. 

It’s quiet for a few minutes, but Doug breaks the silence again. “Why didn’t’cha tell me you were related before?” 

“Oh, uh…” Dean doesn’t know how to answer this one. He hopes they come up on the gas station before any other questions about his fake life come up. “People take the badge more seriously if they don’t know my cousin’s the Sheriff.” 

“Ah.” Doug nods. 

“We’ve only worked two cases together, but it was just easier that people didn’t know.” He conveniently leaves out the third case that happened during her sheriff’s retreat with a side of vampire hunting. 

“I’m sorry about Wendy. This must be hard for you too.” 

“She was closer to Donna… but yeah. I’m ready to find this kid and get the son of a bitch that dared to take her.” Dean feels himself slip back into his protective big brother mode and doesn’t bother shaking it. “Ready?” he asks as he parks at their truck stop of horrors. 

“Yep.”

They get out and are immediately greeted by a homeless man with a window washer. “Windows? Oil?” he asks as they approach each other. He probably hasn’t seen a customer in awhile and it’s fucking cold outside. 

“How about a girl?” Dean asks, pulling out his cellphone with her picture pulled up. 

“Have you seen her?” Doug asks gently as the man looks. 

“May have,” he answers, looking between Dean and Doug. 

“Mhm.” Dean pulls out a twenty and hands it to him. “Keep talkin’.” 

“She was in a couple nights ago. Marlon liked her.” 

“Marlon?” Doug asks. Sometimes Dean forgets that Doug is an actual cop. He’s nice and goofy.   
“He’s the cashier. After she left, he closed up early and drove off after her. Didn’t come back ‘till dawn,” the man tells them. He nods toward the building behind him and Dean’s eyes follow. He can see a figure sitting behind a counter, but he can’t make him out from here. 

“Uh-huh.” Sounds exactly like what they’re looking for. “Thanks,” he says as he moves past him. He stops and hands him another twenty. “I’m paying you not to touch my car, got it?” The man nods, pocketing the cash and walks across the lot from Baby. Dean nods to Doug and they walk inside. 

Cowbells clang above Dean’s head as he opens the door but Marlon doesn’t move. Dean shows his phone screen with Wendy’s picture pulled up. “Where is she?” he asks without preamble. 

“Mmmm,” Marlon grins as his eyes devour the picture. Dean’s stomach turns, but he remains cold. “I don’t know.” He’s lying and he’s not even trying to hide it. Dean grabs him by the back of the neck and slams his face into the counter. 

“Dean! What’re you—?” 

“It’s how we do things in the FBI,” Dean lies, keeping Marlon pinned. 

“It is?” Poor, innocent Doug. 

“Try again,” Dean orders, lifting Marlon from the counter and holding him there. 

“I said I don’t—” Dean slams him back to the counter and leans into the pin hold he’s got on him, putting his face close to his ear. 

“Look, I know you saw her. And I know you went after her. So where is she?” He can feel Marlon struggling under his grip, but he presses harder. 

“You won’t believe it,” Marlon says, finally staying still. 

“Try me.” 

“I can show you if you let me show you in my computer,” Marlon says. Dean sighs and lets him up. 

“Lock the door and turn on the closed sign,” Dean says to Doug without taking his eyes off Marlon. “No funny business,” he warns Marlon. He moves his hand to his gun as he follows Marlon across the store to where his laptop is plugged in. 

Marlon sits on the stool and types in a web address as Doug makes his way over.The screen fills up with a live chat next to a video of a man sobbing, strapped to a table. Under the video is a bidding rate. 

“What? What’s that?” Doug asks. Dean feels sick. This isn’t humans. This is his kind of crazy. This is what he was raised to stop. That man on the screen is someone missing and the monsters bidding are his failures. 

“It’s like eBay,” Marlon says as he watches. “Kinda.” 

_ More like doordash or grubhub _ , Dean thinks. “They’re selling him off. Piece by piece.”

“Somebody help me!” The man on screen screams as his arm is sawed off. Dean can’t look away. He’s frozen to the spot, the failure to protect that man eating into him. He has to save Wendy. 


	17. Chapter 17

Dean had thought about going outside to call Sam and Donna. He had thought about telling Doug to watch Marlon while he told Donna that unfortunately, this was their kind of case. Unfortunately, Wendy wasn’t just kidnapped. She was up for auction on a dinner delivery service for monsters. Doug stopped him though. Doug with his question-filled eyes. He doesn’t understand what he’s seeing. He doesn’t get that the bidders aren’t just people. He doesn’t get that the guy who is screaming on the screen just had his left arm removed for the highest bidder to eat. 

“I need you here,” Dean says the second Sam picks up. “Now.” 

“Donna?” 

“Bring her. She needs to see this.” Dean watches as the bidders start again, this time for the other arm. The man has fainted and his left socket is dripping blood into a bucket. 

“Our kind of thing?” Sam asks. He’s probably with Officer Douche. 

“Yep.” Dean glances at Doug. He’s gone pale and his mustache is twitching downwards. “I’ll text you the address. Clock’s running.” He hangs up and texts Sam the address before pocketing his phone and looking back at the live stream. 

The man is awake again and screaming at the spot where his arm used to be. He probably thought he was going to wake up from the worst and most vivid nightmare he had ever had. He probably thought that maybe he was dreaming about this because of the last true-crime docudrama he had binge-watched and now he was sleeping funny on his arm. He probably thought he would wake up in his bed or on his couch and everything would be fine. Instead, he wakes up and his arm has been sawed off by a man in a mask. 

“So the girl,” Dean says. 

“She’s up next,” Marlon says with a sick smile. Dean feels his stomach twist. She’s up next. After this man’s other arm, legs, loins, head, heart, torso, and blood are all sectioned off and shipped out in take-out boxes. 

Watching the stream is like a train-wreck but one that was maliciously staged and with much more blood. Doug is pale and keeps looking away but Dean’s can’t. Part of him is afraid that the second he looks away, Wendy will be there and he will have let Donna and Wendy down. 

Dean watches, every muscle becoming more tense the longer he stands there watching. His hand is in his pocket gripping his phone in case Sam or Donna calls. He’s overly aware of where his gun is on him in case Marlon moves at all. He feels restless. He should be running to the fight, ready to take down the asshole in charge, but he doesn’t know where to go. All he has is a web page of hungry monsters watching this man’s feet go individually. He doesn’t want to think about why. He knows he’s going to think about it later. 

When the man is dead and gone, Dean is left feeling sick and more determined than ever to find Wendy. The video goes black, but the comments continue. Marlon swivels in his chair to face them, but Dean hits him upside the head and turns him back around. 

“We’re staying here until my backup gets here,” Dean says coldly. “When does the next bid start?”

Marlon shrugs. Dean hits him again. “It’s different every time. I don’t work there.” 

The door opens and Dean looks over his shoulder. Doug sighs with relief but Donna and Sam are all business. Her eyes are already on the computer screen as she makes her way toward them. She stands next to Dean with Sam on her other side. 

“So, it ended about thirty minutes ago,” Dean tells them. Donna has been through too much already. Part of him wants to shield her from this, but he knows better than anyone that she has to see this through to the end. “Show ‘em how it started,” Dean orders Marlon with a light hit. The beginning of last stream starts again and he feels Donna tense up next to him. 

“Hey. Come on,” Sam stops the video again.

“Aw, what’s the matter?” Marlon asks in a mocking tone. “You vegan?”

Doug is the one to smack Marlon on the pack of the head this time. Dean looks at him with some surprise. “How they do it in the FBI,” he offers self consciously as he looks at Donna. 

Oops. That’s on him. Dean looks down at Donna’s stern look of disapproval and offers a silent apology. Yeah, that’s on him. 

“Who’d do this?” Donna asks, looking back at the screen. “Buy pieces of people? For what? Trophies?” 

“No,” Sam says before Dean can. “It’s for food.” 

“Look at the comments.” Dean reads a few off the screen, “‘Yum.’ ‘Tasty.’ ‘Can’t wait to get my delivery.’ It’s takeout for—”

“Monsters,” Donna finishes.

“What?” Doug asks and Dean suddenly remembers that there is one person in the room who has no idea what’s going on. Fuck. Well, cat’s out of the bag. Dean looks to Donna. 

“We’ll talk about it later,” she says to Doug. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Panic is rising in Doug’s voice. Awkward. Dean tries not to look at either of them. This is not his relationship. This is not his place. Why is he standing in between them? Right. Donna chose to stand next to him. He glances between them and clears his throat awkwardly. 

“Where is this broadcast from?” Thank you, Sam. 

“I don’t know. Got me,” Marlon says. He can’t be bothered. “I mean, I don’t run this thing. I just… Look, I see something I think nobody’s gonna miss. I send a message. I get paid.”

“And you feel good about that?” Dean passed disgusted over an hour ago. 

“No, but you know. Like you don’t got bills?” 

“Guys. Guys, look at this,” Sam interrupts. Dean looks at the screen and feels his insides turn. New Auction. He said Wendy was next. Sure enough, there she is, whimpering and pleading for help from the camera that’s aimed at her. 

“Oh God,” Donna breathes, her heart in her voice. Dean looks to her immediately. She’s stronger than anyone gives her credit for. She could crumble right now and no one would blame her, but she’s still standing. She looks up at him before turning and walking away from the computer with Doug on her tail. 

“Okay,” Dean says, focusing on the case. “Can you… Can you… Can you hack into it and found out where she is?” He’s shaken. He wishes he were stronger. He wishes it didn’t show by him stuttering his way back into the hero’s shoes he wears all the time. 

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam answers. “This feed’s on an encrypted TOR server. I mean, this is dark web stuff. Even if I could crack it, it would take days.” 

“Okay, well, you got fifty-eight minutes.” He can’t help but raise his voice. He can feel the clock ticking, the time sliding away like a rug pulled out from under him. 

“I can’t do it.”

“Then who can?” Dean demands.

“The FBI.” Cute. “I can call Clegg,” Sam offers. Dean grits his teeth and nods. They don’t have any other choice. Dean can hear Donna and Doug but tries not to eavesdrop. He looks in the other direction at the wall while Sam calls Clegg. There’s no point in the petty name-calling when his heart is racing and he can hear Wendy pleading for her life. 

It’s ten minutes before Clegg locates where the broadcast is coming from. They pull up outside of a building and immediately split up, Dean leading Donna, Doug, and Marlon while Sam goes for the other entrance. 

“You okay hangin’ back?” Donna asks Doug as Dean shines his flashlight down a dark hallway. 

“Someone’s gotta watch him,” Doug answers. He’s taking this  _ monsters are real _ business really well so far. 

“Dougie, we’ll figure this out when we get back to Stillwater, okay?” Any other time, Dean would have laughed at the nickname. He might have smiled and given Donna a look. Not now. 

“Here,” he says, handing Doug a gun from the bag he has slung over his shoulder. “Twenty minutes. Let’s go.” 

It feels good to be hunting with Donna even with the dread that has settled like a stone in his gut. They’re both quiet as the music from the stream plays eerily. Her moves are practiced as she sweeps with her gun and flashlight, ready to attack. Dean, protective of her since they first met though he would never admit it, feels it strongly now. 

When he spots the doorway the music is coming from, he eyes Donna and whistles. She nods and falls in behind him as they press to the wall and get ready to save Wendy. 

“Fuck,” Dean sighs when they find nothing but a radio in the center of the room. “Go back.” Donna looks at him with concern and mild suspicion. “I’m right behind you,” he promises and she nods. 

They make their way back, weapons still drawn and ready to fight. Their guards are still up, no chance of being taken unaware. Until they walk through the door and see Doug on the floor, blood smeared over his face. 

“Doug!”

“What happened? Where’s Marlon?” Dean asks, but Doug is still reeling. Something’s clearly wrong and he hasn’t processed any of it. 

“Hold on.” Donna sounds breathless. “Just hold on. You’re gonna be okay. Where are you hurt?” 

Dean can see it, but she’s blind to it. His eyes look different. The blood is nowhere but his mouth. 

“I’m not hurt, but...” Doug says, his voice strained. He pants for a moment before his fangs appear. “I don’t think I’m okay.” Definitely not okay. 

“Oh, Doug. Oh God.”

“I’m hungry.” 

_ Fuck. _ Dean drops his bag and shuffles through it. There has to be dead man’s blood in here. He never takes it out of this bag. That was a fast transformation. Much quicker than Dean’s from years and years ago. He winces at the memory of it and grabs the syringe. 

“I’m so hungry.” 

Dean grabs Doug by the back of his jacket and pulls him off of Donna before injecting the dead man’s blood. He goes limp and Dean drops him.

“Is he..?” Donna asks as she stares at his limp form, horror flitting across her features. 

“A vamp. Yeah.” He crouches next to Doug. He’s still breathing. “The change… Sometimes it’s fast. Sometimes it’s slow. Just depends on the person,” he explains as Donna catches her breath. “I just shot him up with some dead man’s blood. He should be knocked out for a while.”

“Oh jeez,” Donna breathes. 

“He’ll be okay,” Dean announces. 

“You call this okay?” She’s worried and a little mad about the nonchalance, he’s sure, but Doug will be okay. Dean isn’t about to let the first guy Donna allowed to get close to her after her ex to die a horrific death in front of her. That will not happen. Not if he has anything to say about it. 

“Look, he just got turned, okay? Which means that he hasn’t fed. Which means there is a cure.” He can still taste the cure sliding down his throat, the pain spreading through him. 

“Huh?”

“We just need to mix up some sage, a little bit of garlic—”

“And you need the bloodsucker who turned him,” Marlon says, his fangs still protruding from his gums. 

“Well, thanks for making that easy for me,” Dean says, looking up at him. 

“You never even saw it comin’,” Marlon giggles, clearly too proud of himself to care about his carelessness. “He got you.” 

“He who?” Dean feels his heart sink. Marlon isn’t laughing about turning Doug. 

“Clegg, man.” The old man. “He’s got your brother.” 

“Where?” Dean asks.  _ Keep Sammy safe. _

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” he laughs. “Shouldn’t have been so rough with me. I hold a grudge.” 

“Well,” Dean sighs, unsheathing his machete. “Bring it, Twilight.” Before Dean can move, Donna shoots Marlon. He falls, the shot in his kneecap. 

“You,” she says to Dean, “get his blood and mix that cure.” Dean nods and goes to his bag obediently. “And you,” he hears her say to Marlon as he starts pulling out the ingredients and mixing bowl. “Where’s Clegg?” 

“I tell you, you’ll kill me,” Marlon whimpers. 

“Oh, I’m killin’ ya either way,” Donna promises. Atta girl. Dean smiles to himself. “You just gotta decide if you want it fast or slow. 

Marlon doesn’t hold on any longer. He starts spilling everything he knows as Dean mixes the cure, one eye on Doug. When they get the answer, Dean hands Donna the machete and brings his bowl over to collect the blood. 

“Thanks,” she says as the blood drains into his bowl. He shakes his head, no thanks needed. She would do the same for him. 

“Get the bag in the car and bring this.” He hands her the bowl of vamp cure. “I’ll get Doug.”

“You betcha,” she says.

Poor Doug. Dean puts handcuffs on him to keep them safe in case he does wake up and sizes him up. For a Sam-sized person, he would probably have to sling them over his shoulder and let their feet drag. Doug looks much lighter than Sam, though roughly the same height. Dean picks him up bridal style, his head lolling back over one arm while his legs dangle over the other arm. 

Donna opens the back door of Baby, her worried eyes on Doug. Dean puts him into the car as gently as he can before closing the door and sliding into his own seat. Donna sits behind him and next to Doug, the cure sloshing in the bowl as he pulls away from the red herring of a building. 

“This… it’s going to work, right?” she asks, her voice trembling just slightly.

“It worked on me.” 

“Okay.” He watches in the mirror as she tips the cure into Doug’s open mouth and lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He hadn’t known how she would take it. As with everything else, she trusts him fully and without question. It’s a heavy responsibility and he promises himself that he will never let her down. He can’t. “There you go.” 

Dean pulls up to what he hopes is the actual place. He and Donna get out of the car without a word and leave Doug to sleep off his vampirism while they go save Wendy and Sam. This time, the room they enter is large and dark with two hallways. When Dean whistles to her, he nods in the opposite direction to search the other hallway. They’re out of time with two lives on the line. She nods silently and separates from him, her footsteps light. 

Dean can hear Clegg’s voice as he enters his hallway. He clenches his jaw and walks a little faster until he makes it to the right doorway. 

“Say goodbye, Sam,” the old man says as Dean steps into the room. Dean shoots without hesitation and watches as the white shirt blossoms with red. 

“Show’s over,” Dean announces, looking at his brother strapped to the same chair that the man from earlier had died in. He shoots the camera and goes to Sam to get him out of the restraints. 

“How?” Sam asks.

“Cashier was a vamp. Turned Doug. Told us everything. Donna killed him.” Dean looks around the room. “Where’s the other guy? With the mask?” 

“He went that way,” Sam says as he sits up, nodding toward a door. 

“Go find Donna and Wendy,” Dean says. “Doug’s in the car.” Before Sam can protest, Dean leaves the room, his gun raised and ready to take down the other bad guy. He’s not hard to find and he’s just another human. One shot to the heart and he goes down. 

Dean makes his way back to the car and finds Sam leaning against the Impala waiting for him. Donna is sitting in the backseat with Wendy in her arms and Doug is still out like a light, his head resting against the window. 

“First stop: hospital,” Dean says as he gets in the car. “Everyone good?” 

“Good,” Donna answers through her tears as she strokes Wendy’s matted hair. Sam takes his spot in the front seat as Dean starts the car. 

The drive to the hospital is quiet. Donna murmurs to Wendy and Wendy whimpers back and those are the only sounds for the whole ride. Sam picks Wendy up when they arrive and Donna goes in with them while parks and babysits Doug. He lets his head fall back as he sinks down in his seat, his head resting against the seat. 

He did good, but his chest still feels tight. He helped rescue the niece, saved his brother, and cured Doug. Hopefully, Doug is cured. They won’t know until he wakes up, but the cure should work. Donna has her family back and she will be okay. 

Dean sighs and rubs his hands over his face and checks his phone. Still no call from Cas. 

“You good?” Sam asks with a smirk as Dean carries the still unconscious Doug toward the hotel room. 

“Just open the door,” Dean says as he rolls his eyes. Donna sticks to his side as he walks, her worried eyes searching Doug’s face. “We’ll clean the blood off his face before he wakes up,” he promises. 

“Will he be okay?” Donna whispers, looking up at him for a moment. 

“Hopefully.” He can’t lie to her. He’d like to say yes, but there’s the possibility that Marlon was lying. He could wake up just as bloodthirsty. “If Marlon was the one who turned him, then yeah, he’ll be okay.” 

They walk inside and Dean sets him on the couch before going into the bathroom for a wet towel and a dry one. He comes back and kneels in front of Doug. Donna is already sitting next to him, her pain evident on her face. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect him,” Dean says as he wipes the blood from Doug’s face. 

“You were busy,” Donna says with a small smile. “Thanks for bein’ here.” 

“Yeah.” Dean finishes cleaning Doug’s face and tosses the towels into the bathroom before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Now they wait for Doug to wake up. 

“It worked on you,” Donna says slowly. Dean glances at Sam, remembering that night. Sam looks down at his feet and fidgets. He remembers too. 

“It was a long time ago,” Dean says, looking back to Donna. “Just a really bad night.” 

“Just another Tuesday for you, huh?” She asks and Sam winces, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. She doesn’t notice. Most people don’t. 

“Wednesday,” Dean corrects her. “Or Monday.” He shrugs. On Tuesdays he dies on a loop or something like that and on Thursdays they’re teddy bear doctors. 

The room falls silent again and Donna looks back at Doug. It’s obvious that she wants to reach out and hold his hand or stroke his cheek, but his hands are cuffed and his cheek is too close to his mouth. Instead, she keeps her hands balled into fists in her lap. 

Doug gasps loudly and looks around frantically. His eyes don’t have that look about them anymore, but Dean sits still as he waits. 

“Dougie Bear,” Donna exhales her relief. “Are you okay?” 

“I…” He looks away from her and his eyes land on Sam and then Dean. 

“You feel like you wanna bite any of us?” Dean asks, his hand resting on his gun. 

“Not really,” Doug says a little faintly. 

“Alright. Then I guess it worked,” Sam announces as he puts away his weapon and Donna pulls out the keys to the handcuffs. 

“W-Wendy?” Doug asks. Good man. Dean puts his gun back in the holster. 

“She’s safe. She’s at a hospital. She’s gonna be fine, just like you,” Donna reassures him as she finally smiles a smile that reaches her eyes. Her family is safe. Her niece is at the hospital and her boyfriend is back to being a human. She finally gets to stroke his cheek again without fear of him waking up and biting her.

“Fine?” His voice cracks and he has betrayal and confusion making an odd mix on his face. 

“Yeah.”  
  
“I was a vampire.” He’s processing. 

“For a couple hours,” Donna says, her voice high. Doug looks away from her and over to Dean. 

“Listen, Doug,” Dean says as he stands. “I know it’s been a day, but now you know what’s out there. Be nice to have another good guy on our side.” Donna is beaming with pride as she looks from Dean to Doug. 

“I…” Doug stammers, clearly caught off guard. Dean remembers trying to protect Donna from this life. He remembers trying to take over the vamp case that she insisted on helping with. She’s come a long way. And now Doug knows the truth. Now Donna won’t have to keep half of her life a secret from him. “No.” Everyone’s faces fall. No one was expecting that. “Maybe you all can live this life, but I can’t. I just wanna go home.” 

“So we’ll go home,” Donna says, gripping his hand as she looks up at him. 

“And what? I’m a cop ‘cause I like helpin’ folks, but… Vampires? That’s…” He takes his hand from hers and tries unsuccessfully to keep the fear from his face. “I’m not…” This was too soon. It was too soon after introducing him to monsters that he temporarily became one and it was too soon after being cured to be asked to join. Everything happened too fast and now Dean is watching Donna’s heart break as Doug walks toward the door.

“Doug,” she pleads, “I’m sorry I lied to you. But I can’t give this up.”

“I know. Donna, you kill monsters. You’re a damn hero. But that’s… It’s not me. I’m sorry. I love you.” She doesn’t answer, but Dean can feel her next to him. She wants to say it back, but if she says it back then it will make all fo this so much worse. “I’m sorry.” Donna and Doug are both crying now. 

“Doug, wait!” She cries out as Doug leaves the room.   
  
“Let him go,” Sam says gently. “Donna, when you choose this life, anyone who gets too close, eventually they get hurt. Or worse. So let him go. He’ll be safer that way.” What the fuck, Sam? Dean watches Sam walk out of the room as he grips Donna’s shoulder. She shakes with a stifled sob before Dean pulls her against him and she lets herself cry into his chest. 

“Come here,” he whispers, hugging her closer and resting his cheek against the top of her head. He doesn’t know what to say. He could say he’s sorry. Sorry that his happened, sorry that Sam has clearly given up on having friends or relationships, sorry that he was the one to offer Doug a spot in the hunter’s life, sorry that their breakup hadn’t been more private. 

“I love him,” she sobs, her hands balling the back of Dean’s coat into her fists. 

“I know you do,” he answers softly. “Don’t give up. Please don’t listen to Sam. He’s right that it’s a risk. He’s right that this is safer for Doug, but don’t give up.” 

“I want to.” 

“I know.” She squeezes harder and he wraps his arms around her tighter. “Where are you going after this?”

“I’m takin’ Wendy home in the mornin’,” she says as she sniffs. “How is Doug supposed to get home? We drove here together. We were together.” 

“He can take a cab. Don’t worry about him right now. He’s safe. Wendy’s safe.” Dean sighs. Tonight was supposed to be happier than this. “Do you want me to stay? We can kick Sam out and eat ice cream and listen to The Cranberries and watch Thelma and Louise or whatever.”

“No. You’ve got to go home. I should go back to the hospital.” She pulls away and wipes her tears away. “I don’t know where my car is.”

“I’ll drop you off at your car.” It’s at the red herring building where Doug had been turned as Sam was kidnapped. She nods stiffly.

“Thanks, Dean.” 

“I’m going to change and then we can go,” he says. She flashes a quick smile when she looks down at his tear-stained shirt and nods. He grabs his clothes and heads into the bathroom, changing quickly before stuffing his suit into the duffle. 

“Come on.” He leads her out to the Impala where Sam is leaning against the passenger door.. Doug is nowhere to be seen. “Go change. I’ll be back to pick you up later.” Donna gives Sam a quick parting hug and slides into the seat beside Dean. They don’t talk during the drive, but they don’t have to. She looks out the window and he doesn’t mention the tears still rolling down her cheeks. 

When they arrive, Dean cuts the engine and looks over at her. “I can stay,” he offers again. She shakes her head as she looks at her hands. 

“I can do this,” she says. “I have to do this.” He nods and they both get out of the car. She hugs him again, taking a deep breath as she does. 

“I know you can.” 

Dean pulls onto the main road and starting their long trip back home. Sam had grabbed their bags and gotten into the car without a word. No music is playing, only the sound of the tires on the road fills the car. 

“You were a little tough on Donna back there,” Dean says after a few minutes. That’s an understatement but he’s not about to tear into him. 

“What?” 

“Just sayin’.” He glances at Sam. There has to be some sort of an explanation or apology. She didn’t deserve that right after watching her boyfriend walk away from her. 

“Was I wrong? I mean, when has knowing us ever worked out for anyone?” 

“I mean, we save people, Sam.” 

“Yeah. We also get people killed, Dean.” Charlie’s beaming face flashes in the dark and Dean clenches his jaw. The memory of Cas’ wings burned into the Earth is etched into his memory. “Kaia for instance. She helped us and she died for it.” 

“Hey, look. I know you’re in some sort of a—”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Don’t. Don’t. You keep saying I’m in a dark place, but I’m not, Dean. Everything I’m saying is the truth. It’s our lives. And I tried to pretend it didn’t have to be. I tried to pretend we could have Mom back and Cas and… and help Jack, but we can’t. This ends one way for us, Dean. It ends bloody. It ends bad.” 

“I got Cas back,” Dean says, his hands tight on the wheel. He’s missing again, but he’s alive and Dean is clinging to that. “We will get Mom and Jack back. Did you miss the part where we saved Wendy? It ends bloody for  _ us _ , not them. Donna will outlive us. So, respectfully, you’re full of shit.” 

Sam opens his mouth to answer but Dean doesn’t want to hear it. He shakes his head and turns the volume knob, drowning the conversation in AC/DC. 


	18. Chapter 18

Dean props his injured leg up as he gets into bed. He places the icepack over his knee and takes a sip of his beer as he relaxes into his pillows. His phone starts playing “I’m Walking on Sunshine” and he picks up without bothering to check the ID. 

“Donna,” he answers.

“Bad time?” 

He looks around at his empty room and his end-of-a-case injured leg. “No. What’s up?”

“He put in a request to be transferred,” Donna says quietly. “It got approved this morning.”

“You okay?” 

“You betcha,” she says without any of the usual pep. “What’s up with you?”

“Well…” Dean scratches his head and thinks for a moment. What’s up? He was hexed to fall in love with a stranger while his boyfriend is still missing. The most powerful and dangerous witch he knows has a page to one of the most powerful books in the world. His mom and Jack are still stuck in another universe. “A lot, actually.”

“Tell me? I need to think about something else.” 

“Okay.” He takes another sip of his beer and looks up at the ceiling. “Cas still hasn’t called. I’m worried about him but there’s nothing I can do. Some witches found us recently to get ahold of one of the most powerful books in the world? I hate witches. Anyway, they found us and I was hexed. Which is just awesome. Nothing like losing control of your body and mind.”

“Hexed? What did they do?”

“The date-rape drug of hexes. Which feels fantastic,” he says dryly. “Rowena helped us out of that mess.”

“Is she another friend?” 

“Sometimes,” he admits with a sigh. “Most of the time she’s a friend, I guess. She wasn’t when we met and I’m a little scared of what she’s up to right now, but Sam trusts her. I like her. Cas finds her useful if not exhausting.”

“You do have friends,” Donna says. There’s something of a smile in her voice. 

“Yeah,” he allows, “I guess I do.” 

Dean’s head rests against Cas’ chest. His angel is back and he’s drawing Dean’s name in Enochian over and over on Dean’s bare shoulder. His phone is buzzing on the side table, but he can’t reach it. There’s zero chance of him moving. 

“Hello?” Cas answers, his fingertip still gliding over Dean’s skin. “I was being held captive in Hell with Lucifer,” he says nonchalantly. Dean raises an eyebrow and looks up at him. 

“Donna?” he asks. Cas nods. “Tell her I say hi,” he says as he relaxes against Cas again. 

“Dean says hi.” There’s a pause and a murmuring of her voice through the phone. “I’ll put you on speaker.” 

“Hiya, Dean!” Donna sounds much happier. “Why wasn’t I the first phone call after Cas came back, huh?” 

“You would have been if you had waited for me to call,” Dean says. Cas runs his hand idly through Dean’s hair. “So, Cas is back.”

“I gathered,” she laughs. It’s good to hear her laughing again. 

“What’s going on on your end?” Dean asks.

“I decided it was high time for a vacation. With everythin’ that had happened…” 

“Sounds good to me. Where’d you go?” 

“Jody invited me to stay with her and who can say no to Jodes?” Donna laughs. “It’s been good. Bachelorette pad over here! Anything interestin’ over there?”

“We are attempting to find a way to break into an apocalyptic universe before they break into ours,” Cas says before Dean can tell him not to. 

“What?” Donna asks as Dean sits up abruptly to fix Cas with a silencing look. Or what he thought was a silencing look. 

“There’s an archangel in the universe where Jack and Mary are trapped who wants to dominate thi— What is it, Dean?” Dean covers his face with his hands and shakes his head. 

“What in the flyin’ fudgesicles is goin’ on over there, Dean?” 

“Don’t worry. Right now we don’t even have a way in,” Dean says, taking the phone from Cas. “Relax and have fun with Jody. I’ll update you when we figure out how to crash their party.” 

“Dean.”

“Everything’s fine,” he promises, trying not to think about the soulless prophet in the war room eating chicken wings and decoding the demon tablet. “It wouldn’t hurt if you guys kept your eyes out for Lucifer, though. We, uh, we lost him and…”

“And that’s kind of a big deal?” Donna finishes for him. Understatement. “We’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Donna.” 

Dean can’t sleep. In the past day, too many things have happened. Donatello had sent him and Cas on a milk run for hearts that don’t exist after his mind snapped. Dean had lost the ability to breathe momentarily when the psychotic Donatello had cursed him briefly. Cas had melted Donatello’s brain in order to get the spell they needed to get into the apocalypse world. 

“Dean?” Donna answers on the first ring. 

“Hey, Donna. Bad time?” It  _ is _ two in the morning. 

“No. What’s up?” 

“Tell me about normal things,” he says as he walks outside. 

“Your life too supernaturally strange recently?” she asks. 

“Mm.”

“I went back to work yesterday. They had a cake and everythin’.” She doesn’t sound too happy. Dean furrows his brow and sits down in the grass outside. “Stillwater is a quiet place. Most excitin’ thing that’s happened round here was the first time you blew into town for the hot dog eatin’ contest.”

“Wow. Blast from the past,” he says with a small laugh. Simpler times, but he doesn’t miss them. He and Sam hadn’t been doing great and Dean was only a few bad days away from getting the First Blade to go with his brand new Mark of Cain when he’d met Donna. 

“Why’re you up?”

“Who needs sleep when we have coffee?” Dean sighs and drags his hand down his face. “I fucked up and karma, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, kicked me in the ass for it. We found out what we need to get to apocalypse world though.”

“I want to be happy for you, but I’m more worried than anythin’.” 

“Yeah…” he sighs. “Me too.” 

“I was in Scooby Doo!” Dean yells excitedly before Donna finishes saying hello. “Me! I, Dean Winchester, was in an episode of Scooby Doo! I got to meet the fricken Scooby Gang!” 

“Are you in Hollywood?” Donna asks when he takes a breath.

“No! I was sucked into the tv. It was haunted. I don’t know. But I was animated and I got to shove an entire sandwich in my mouth and Velma kissed Sammy and it was really them, Donna! The Scooby Gang! The Mystery Machine! All of it!”

“What did you take and how much?” Donna laughs. “Who was your favorite to meet in person?”

“Scooby, of course! I would say Daphne, but let’s be real... He’s Scooby.”

“I thought you didn’t like dogs.” 

Dean gasps loudly. “Scooby Doo isn’t just any dog and I love him. That dog is a hero.” 

“What’d it feel like to be animated?” He can practically see her putting her chin in her hands as she quizzes him on his insane hunt. 

“Ever had acid?” he asks, trying to think of the best way to describe it. 

“Once.” 

“ _ Excuse _ me?” he half laughs. “Little miss perfect has dropped  _ acid _ ?”

“Just the once,” she giggles. “So being animated was like that?” 

“Definitely. Drug-free drug trip. It was awesome.” He plays with the red ascot that Cas has forbidden him from ever wearing again. “So, when did you do drugs exactly?”

“When did  _ you _ ?” 

“Don’t change the subject.” He wraps it around his wrist and twirls the ends of it around his finger like people used to do with corded telephones. 

“During my gap year. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll! Had to have some fun before trainin’ to become a cop, ya know.” 

“We’re not as different as I used to think,” he muses. 

“That’s between us. I do have a reputation to hold up.”

“My lips are sealed.” He pretends to zip his lips closed, turns the invisible lock, and tosses the imaginary key. 

“You’re bein’ quiet…” Donna says. She knows something’s wrong. Dean takes a deep breath. 

“I found a way to get into the other world,” he says finally. He hears her take in a sharp breath and closes his eyes. “I’m going alone.”

“Dean, no.” 

He opens his eyes again and keeps packing his duffel of weapons. “I have to.”

“Have you told Cas?” 

Dean clenches his jaw. “I can’t. He’ll want to come with. I can’t let that happen.” The image of Cas marching past him as Sam dragged him toward the portal flashes in his mind.  _ Cas! No! _ The memory of his eyes shining with the light of Heaven as his angel blade plunged through him makes Dean’s chest tighten.  _ No! _ The weight of him in Dean’s arms is a memory he will never be able to shake. “Last time… Last time he died. I lost him and I’m not letting that happen again. Ever.”

“Dean…” She pauses and he fills the silence with adding more ammo to his bag. “He’s goin’ to be a wreck if he comes back and you’re not there.” 

“And I’ll be a fucking disaster if he comes with me and I lose him,” he counters. “I’ll come back. I’ll be okay.” 

“You better.”   


“I made it back,” Dean says one day later. 

“You don’t sound okay.” 

“We lost the only way back there. I left Ketch there. I left Mom and Jack there. I left Charlie there. I failed at everything I set out to do and on top of everything, I was shot and almost died in the snow, feverish and delusional. Everything’s fantastic. But I figured you’d kill me if I didn’t call you back.” 

“You’re right about the last part, but you didn’t fail anythin’. You’ll find another way like you always do.” Why does her voice make him take a deep breath and steady himself? She shouldn’t have that power. “I’m glad you’re safe.” 

“Mm.”

“Did you say Charlie?” 

“There’s a Charlie over there. She’s alive and kickin’ ass. Because I didn’t get her killed. Two seconds after meeting me and she’s probably gone.” He clenches his jaw and drags a hand through his hair. She’s not dead. He gave her a gun and she knows how to take care of herself. 

“She’s okay. You’re okay. Please let your boyfriend heal your gunshot wound.”

“I’m fine,” he insists, rolling his aching shoulder. The goo that Ketch had packed onto it might have saved him, but it did nothing to ease the pain of the actual shot. 

“Dean.” 

“Yes, mom.” 

_ “I’m walkin’ on sunshine! Oh-oh!” _ Donna’s ringtone sings. Dean is sitting on the table in the library waiting for Rowena and Gabriel to return with Lucifer. Cas is leaning against him, but no one is talking. There’s nothing to say right before going through a portal and into a war zone. 

“Hey, Donna,” Dean answers cheerfully as if the devil isn’t being kidnapped for a spell. 

“Jody kissed me!” Donna squeals. “She told me she was going to the Sheriff's retreat again this year if I was going and I told her I always go! Of course, I would be there, right? So we met up and she asked me out on an actual date! I went and she walked me back to my hotel room and kissed me! She really kissed me, Dean!” 

“I’m happy for you.” He smiles as he listens to her gush. “So. Is she like  _ your girlfriend _ now?” he asks teasingly. Sam and Cas both look over at Dean. 

“Shut up!” she shrieks. “Maybe! I don’t know! I hope so! She kissed me!” 

“Congratulations,” Dean smiles. 

“Wait. Is this moving on too fast?” She asks, suddenly sounding worried.

“It’s been over two months and it’s okay to feel happy. Do you like her? Was the kiss good?” Dean asks. 

“Yes!” She’s back to squealing. 

“There you go.” 

He will not ruin this for her. He can’t tell her that while she’s moving on from heartbreak in the arms of a wonderful woman, he’s stepping into an apocalyptic world with guns blazing. He leans his head on Cas’ shoulder as he listens to Donna tell him everything about their date and closes his eyes when he feels Cas rub his back comfortingly. 

They don’t know how this will go. They don’t know if Lucifer will even have enough grace, but even if he does, they don’t know if they’ll make it back alive. They have hope. In the moments of comfort that Dean can listen to his best friend explode with joy over a new beginning or snuggle against his boyfriend’s side, there is hope. Hope for them to find their people. Hope for them to survive this together. Hope that someday they will see the other side of this. 


	19. Chapter 19

“What just happened?” Dean asks as he moves to help Cas up. 

“I don’t know,” Cas confesses, nothing but fear in his eyes. 

The world seems to be collapsing around them, but in Dean’s experience, that happens from time to time. They had gone to the apocalyptic alternate universe and saved Mary, Jack, and dozens of others. Everything had been looking up after losing Sam briefly and failing to trap Lucifer yet again. Now Lucifer is gone again. He’s gone, but not before hurting Jack. He’d slit his throat and taken in Jack’s grace, his eyes flaming red. Sam, in all his wisdom, had reached forward to stop whatever it was that was happening, and the three of them vanished in a flash of light leaving Michael, Cas, and Dean alone in the War Room. 

“The Devil won,” Michael says. Dean feels Cas’ hand tighten on his. They both turn to face Michael, their hands linked as they face him together. “That’s what happened.” 

“How do we stop him?” Cas demands. His heart is in his voice, his rage and worry crashing together in waves and spilling over.   
  
“You don’t.” Michael is talking slowly around his labored breathing. He’s trying to push himself back up to standing, but his energy is gone. “After consuming the nephilim’s grace, Lucifer’s all juiced up. He’s supercharged. He’ll kill the boy. Your brother. Hell, he could end the whole universe if he put his mind to it. And you thought _I_ was bad.”

“No. No, you beat him. I saw you,” Dean protests. 

“When he was weaker and I was stronger. Believe me, I’d love to rip my brother apart. But now, in this banged up meatsuit… not happening.” His meatsuit. “This is the end. Of everything.” 

Inside of that damaged body, Michael still has his grace. He’s not going to bother healing himself. He might need his perfect vessel to defeat Lucifer. Even if he doesn’t, he can probably feel himself standing in the same room as the once proclaimed Michael Sword. 

“No.” Dean drops Cas’ hand and steels himself. His next words are rising like bile in his throat, the sacrifice like acid on his tongue. “What if… What if you had your sword?” 

“Dean, no,” Cas tries but Dean steps forward, placing himself between Michael and Cas. 

“I am your sword. Your perfect vessel.” He can still hear Zachariah’s voice, see his determined face. He can still feel the defiance he had held within him in his thirties, refusing to say yes. He remembers the lengths that Heaven had gone to. Zachariah had removed Sam and Adam’s lungs. He’d given Dean stomach cancer. He’d wiped his memory and made him a manager of some ghost-infested company. He remembers Cas slamming him against the wall of an alley when he had entertained the idea of saying yes. 

He also remembers what had happened when he’d said no. He’d lost Sam. He’d stared up into Cas’ face, believing him God, and felt his physical wounds healed while his heart shattered. He remembers his entire being screaming for Cas with every step he took toward Lisa’s house. He’d lost Sam for a year. Longer if you count his soul. He can’t let that happen again. He can’t lose everything he fought so hard for. “With me, you’d be stronger than you’ve ever been.” 

“Oh, I know what you are.” So he can feel it. So he knows. Dean feels himself wilt inside as he pushes himself to appear the exact opposite. So Michael knows and his motive is to use Dean. He can work with that. 

“If we work together, can we beat Lucifer?” 

“Dean!” Cas yells, reaching forward and grabbing his arm. It’s like being shocked, electricity shooting up his arm from where his boyfriend’s hand grips him.   
  
“Can we!?” he yells over the pounding of his heart. 

“We’d have a chance.”

“Dean, you can’t!” Cas spins Dean around to face him and Dean gets caught in his pleading eyes. His gorgeous blue eyes that are filled with every painful worry that they’re both feeling. 

“Lucifer has Sam. He has Jack. Cas, I don’t have a choice.” His last sentence breaks in his voice and he lifts his hands to Cas’ face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. Cas’ hands move to Dean’s chest where he can probably feel Dean’s heart slamming. “Cas, I can’t say no again. I can’t.” 

“Dean.” His hands tighten on Dean’s shirt as his eyes fill with tears that he won’t let fall. Not now anyway. “I rebelled for this?” Cas says gently, his voice trembling. It’s the same thing he had yelled through clenched teeth so many years before. “So that you could surrender to them? I gave everything for you. I will always give everything for you. Please don’t do this.”

“I have to,” Dean whispers. “You know I do.”

“I love you.”

“Don’t say goodbye,” Dean says, his heart shattering. “I will be back. I promise I will come back.” 

“I love you,” Cas says again, his voice just as soft and insistent. 

“I will say it when I come back to you,” Dean promises before kissing him. Cas pulls Dean as close as they can possibly get before Dean pulls away and turns back to Michael. 

“If we do this,” Dean says, letting himself go numb so he won’t back down, “it’s a one time deal. I’m in charge. You’re the engine, but I’m behind the wheel. Understand?” He can feel Cas’ kisses all over him, begging him to stay and figure out another way.

“Deal. I just need one word,” Michael says slowly.

“Yes,” Dean says as Cas screams, “Dean!” 

Dean remembers lying in a puddle as fifty-thousand volts of electricity coursed through him. White-hot pain blinded him and his jaw clenched so tight he was sure his teeth were going to shatter in his skull. He remembers the immediate pain of his head striking a window as a truck hit the Impala. His chest being ripped open by Hellhounds as his blood forced its way up his throat and into his mouth, gargling his screams. Every injury, every near death, and every death feels like it’s happening all over again as he clenches his jaw and refuses to scream as Michael takes his place. 

“I’m okay,” Dean says, panting. He stands up straight. “I’m okay.” 

Cas nods, his lips pressed tight. 

“Let’s go,” Michael says to Dean from somewhere inside. And then they’re gone. 

Everything feels somewhat distant and the world is moving by quickly. He feels like he’s strapped in an airplane and watching the world get smaller as he ascends, his stomach somersaulting. Except, this airplane is going so fast, he’s not even sure his stomach wasn’t left on Earth to somersault on its own. 

“Dean?” Sam asks and Dean realizes he’s landed. He’s in too much pain, grace searing through his bloodstream. 

“Hiya, Sammy.” Sam goes to Jack as Lucifer steps into the center of the room. It’s a stain glass casket, empty of everything but an overturned podium and a single slab of marble. 

“You let my brother in,” Lucifer says as he sizes him up. 

“Well, turns out he and I have something in common. We both wanna gut your ass.” Dean can’t feel his fingers. Come to think of it, he can’t feel anything. He feels like he’s sinking, his lips at the surface of the water a wavering lifeline. 

The fight is all Michael. He’s a little glad he can’t feel anything when the punches start rolling in. Everything is moving at high speed or time is jumping. Dean isn’t really sure. He’s just trying to keep himself aware enough to survive this. If he can survive this, he can go home to Cas to tell him he loves him. 

“Well. Good try, Dean,” Lucifer says. Dean snaps into the present unaware of how long he’s been out with Michael in charge. “I’ll give you that, buddy. I’m not just powerful now. I am power. And I don’t need a blade to end you, pal.”

“Dean!” Sam yells. It’s concerning but overall helpful that Michael is answering to Dean’s name as Dean doesn’t have control over his limbs at the moment. Michael reaches out and grabs the blade that Sam had thrown. 

“Bye-bye, Dean.” Lucifer’s hand presses to Dean’s forehead and blinding pain rips through Dean. He’s vaguely aware of the sound of his own scream and then he’s falling. The ceiling stretches farther and farther away until Dean feels himself slam against the ground. He can feel. Michael heals him immediately and Dean gets up, standing to watch Lucifer die. 

“Is he…?” Jack asks tentatively.   
  
“He’s dead,” Sam confirms.

“Holy crap,” Dean finally says when he realizes that he’s back in control of his body, the Devil is dead, and his family is safe. 

“You did it.” Sam grins.

“No. No,  _ we  _ did it.” 

“We did it.” The words are far away again. Sam and Jack’s celebration is muffled and growing darker by the second. Dean feels like his chest is being cracked open, a crowbar pulling his ribs away from his sternum. Fuck, it hurts. 

“We had a deal!” Dean screams, but he can’t hear his own voice anymore. He’s being pushed too far down, suffocating in the darkness. 

“I lied,” Michael’s voice answers. 

_ “You remember anything about being possessed?” Sam had asked Jimmy Novak once. “Anything at all?” _

_ “Yeah, bits and pieces. I mean, an angel inside of you… It’s kind of like being chained to a comet.”  _

Dean feels like he’s drowning in that puddle he’d been electrocuted in. He was supposed to survive. He was supposed to make it back to Cas, hold him in his arms again, kiss him gently and murmur into his lips that he loves him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had won for a brief moment. He had seen his brother smile. 

Dean can’t breathe. He can’t see. If being the suit for an angel felt like being chained to a comet, being double-crossed by an archangel was like being strapped to the Sun as it’s sucked into a black hole. 

There’s fear and then there’s the nightmare of terror that Dean can’t wake up from. He pulls himself out of the electrified water and rakes his hands down the walls around him. “Cas!” Dean screams as he tears at the barriers. 

Suddenly, it’s not so dark. Dean is standing at the edge of the public water supply. He’s alone as he looks out over the still water. He knows this place. It’s where Cas… Dean spots the tan trenchcoat in the water. When he lifts it, his hand is shaking. 

“No.” 

He turns around and now he’s in Purgatory. He’s standing where he’d stood the moment Cas had disappeared from his side. He’s alone and surrounded by the glowing red eyes of the monsters that would “much more likely rip him to shreds.” 

Dean spins on his heel and finds himself in a wrecked warehouse. There are angel sigils painted onto the walls and sparking, exposed wires. 

“Cas?” Dean kneels beside him, but he knows before the man answers. 

“No. It’s me. Jimmy.” 

“No, no, no, no.” Dean stands. He’s reeling. The ground feels like a rug that’s being pulled out from under him after each step he takes. He shuts his eyes tight and lets himself scream, crumpling to the floor as he does. 

Cas’ fist connects with Dean’s face. They’re alone in the crypt and his face is blank as he looks down at Dean. Dean puts a hand up protectively as he looks up at his angel. 

“Cas, please,” he begs. “Cas, this isn’t you.” Cas punches him again and Dean falls to the floor, his head connecting with the stone floor with a thud. 

The scenes stop playing as Dean curls into a ball in the darkness and weeps. “I love you,” he sobs into his hands as he covers his face. “I love you so damn much.” 

“I love you,” Cas’ voice comes. 

“I will say it when I come back to you,” Dean hears his own answer. It’s like being stabbed in the heart repeatedly. He covers his ears as he curls into a tighter ball. 

“Get out of my head!” Dean yells. His face dips below the surface of the water again. He screams into the water, not caring if his nose and mouth are filled. He doesn’t care if he drowns here, oppressed in his own head by Michael. He will get himself back even if he has to hurtle through time and space while drowning eternally. 

Donna grins at her phone as another text from Jody comes in. It’s been two weeks since their first date, first kiss, fresh start, new beginning. She hadn’t expected to move on so fast. Getting over the first Doug had taken years. She had expected to be alone for the rest of her life after the second Doug had walked away. She couldn’t pinpoint when she had started to see Jody differently either. Jody has always been beautiful in a rugged kind of way with her jaded personality and striking wit. Maybe she’d always seemed off-limits since she had that fling with Asa. 

After their first date, Donna had needed to clarify things. She wasn’t getting into a fling. They were going to date or they were going to stay friends. “Why do you think I asked you out?” was Jody’s reply. 

For their first long-distance date, Donna had rented Jody’s favorite movie and sent Jody to rent hers. When they had agreed to it, Jody had smiled and called her a sap before kissing her and sending her to cloud nine. The movies over and Jody being called in for an emergency, Donna can think of no one else that she’d rather tell than Dean. 

She calls his phone as she picks up her dishes from the video chat dinner date. 

“This is Dean’s other-other cell.” She hangs up and calls his other number. “This is Dean. You know what to do.” She hangs up again and pockets her phone. He’s probably off saving the world. Again. She smiles to herself and continues with her dishes. She decides to try again tomorrow as she hums along with the radio. 

Donna didn’t feel her phone vibrate while she was at work so when she sees the missed call from Sam, she calls her voicemail as she walks to her car. 

“Hey, Donna. It’s Sam. Uh. If you see Dean, don’t…” He sighs. “He’s not Dean right now. Just let us know ASAP, okay?” It sounds like he holds the phone away from his face as he shouts after Cas. “Cas? Where’re you going? Cas!” The voicemail ends and Donna glares at her phone as she feels her heart sinking. What did Dean do? She calls back as she gets in her car.

“Donna, is everything okay?”

“I haven’t seen Dean if that’s what you’re askin’,” she answers. “What happened, Sam?” 

“It’s a long story.” He sounds defeated but she’s beyond done with that answer. 

“Sam Winchester, tell me what happened to him right now or so help me I will drive down and make you answer me.” 

“He said yes to the archangel Michael and… Michael took over. He’s going to destroy this world. We don’t know how, but we know he’s going to.” 

“Why would Dean say yes?” Donna asks aloud though she doesn’t mean to. “Is Cas okay?”

“No,” Sam says immediately. “No. He’s in rough shape.” 

“Are you okay?” 

There’s a pause before he answers. “I know he can beat this. I know we can.” He clears his throat, shoving down the answer that no, he’s not okay, and he takes a steadying breath. “Stay safe, Donna. Talk to you soon.” 

“You too.” She hangs up and scrolls to Cas’ name before thinking better of it and tossing her phone onto the passenger seat for the drive home. 

She knows she’s beating herself up but she should have known. She should have known when he didn’t answer after two weeks of silence. She should have felt that something was wrong. What’s the use in being someone’s best friend if you can’t feel the world being pushed off its axis by them not being alright? 

She pulls into her driveway and sits back, just staring at her home. Michael is an archangel and he has control. Dean could be gone. What if he can’t beat it? There will never be another friendaversary. He will never again show up on her doorstep with icecream and hugs. Never again will she have a phone call at three in the morning where he gushes over Cas. She will have no one to call when she wants to go out and talk about her love life. She’ll never hear him call her his little sister ever again. 

Donna wipes at the tears that have slipped down her cheeks and sniffs before forcing herself out of the car. If anyone can beat an archangel, it’s Dean Winchester. 


	20. Chapter 20

Dean pushes himself up and forces his way to the surface of the electrified water he’s been drowning in for what must be a million years. Sam is probably dead by now. Cas could be long gone or moved on or locked away in Heaven’s jail or maybe he’s back in the Empty. Maybe the world is already destroyed. One thing Dean is sure of, everyone he ever loved is probably dead. 

“Get. Out,” Dean manages. It hurts and it’s taking everything he has. 

“I don’t think so,” Michael answers calmly. 

“You. Can’t.” Dean still can’t see a single damn thing. He feels like he’s weighted down with heavy chains. 

“Oh, but I can. Because see…” Pain rockets through Dean and he grunts as he falls. It feels like the fall Alice takes down the rabbit hole. Falling forever except with daggers ripping into him the entire way down. “I own you. So hang on and enjoy the ride.” 

“No!” Dean shouts but the word is forced back down his throat. He gags and gasps but no air comes. “Get out!” he chokes, reaching out to try to feel anything other than the sensations of falling and suffocating. He finally stops falling when he hits the water again. He gasps at the shock of cold and inhales the water. He feels it fill his lungs, sticking in his throat and remaining in his open mouth and nose. No bubbles come when he cries out, no air left to escape him.   


Dean gasps and takes a step forward. The world around him is not yet in focus and feels like it’s tilting as he takes a few staggered steps. He sees a column and that’s about all he can see. He can’t tell if what’s in front of him is just another illusion or not. Fear grips him as he gets closer to it. He can see Sam, Mary, and Bobby, but what if they’re made up too? If he can touch this, then he’ll know. 

His hand grips the wood and he sags against it as relief escapes him in a sigh. He’s free. He’s awake. Michael is gone and apparently Sam is still alive and well. Dean pulls off the hat that he can feel and lets it drop to the floor. His hands are shaking. His entire body is shaking. 

“Sammy,” Dean manages, “it’s me.” 

He can’t get enough air. His face is finally above water and it’s the first time in a very long time that Dean has felt the sensation of breathing. He can hear himself panting and tries to keep his breaths even enough that he doesn’t hyperventilate. There’s not enough air in the world. Dean closes his eyes, exhausted, and focuses on breathing for a moment. It’s easy to take something for granted when it’s your first act of life. 

Dean sits down with a grunt in an attempt to make the world stop spinning when he opens his eyes again. Sam is the first one to him. His face is changed, a beard covering the lower half, worry and depression in every line of the upper half. 

“Dean?” There’s the puppy dog eyes. Dean has always hated his brother’s superpower, but for the first time he can remember, he finds it comforting in this moment. Probably because he thought he was dead. He thought he would never get to see that annoying look ever again. He thought he would never see Sam again. “Is it really you?”

“Yeah, it’s really me.” Dean still feels out of breath, but the room is finally stilling. His body is feeling more like it belongs to him again. He can’t feel a trace of Michael inside of him at all. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asks.

“No, I’m not okay!” Dean snaps back immediately. How could he be okay? The torture he’s been enduring for… How long has it been? No, really. How long? It’s worse than Hell. It’s worse than the solitary confinement he endured. It’s worse. 

“But you got Michael to leave.”

“No, I…” It occurs to Dean that he has no idea where Micheal left or why. He only just regained consciousness about a minute ago. He doesn’t even know where he is right now. Every time he had screamed for Michael to leave, his face was pushed back under the water. If he continued to scream as he drowned, the water would shock him. Michael left on his own. “I don’t… I didn’t.”

“What?” Bobby asks before Sam can. 

“He just… He just left.” It’s not like he died, which would be better. Dean didn’t beat him and nobody killed him. He just stepped out and walked away as if delivering Dean to the door that would lead him to Sam. It’s a sucker punch to the gut, but Dean doesn’t voice it. If he does, he can’t go home. If he does, he can’t see Cas. 

“Why?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know,” Dean says honestly though his stomach is still dropping to the center of the Earth. It tastes like a lie under his suspicion. “I don’t know.” 

“Can you, uh…” Sam looks up at Mary and Bobby apologetically. “Can you give us a minute?” 

“Oh. Yeah. We’ll be outside…” Mary looks from Sam to Dean, her eyebrows creasing before she adds, “I’m glad you’re back.” He nods and leans against the pole again, not bothering to watch her leave the room. 

“What happened?” Sam whispers. 

“I don’t know,” Dean lies. He remembers every second. He can still feel the shocks and the feeling of the water filling his lungs. He clears his throat. “How long has it been?” he asks softly. “Is… Is Cas still..?”

“It’s only been a month,” Sam answers before Dean can fall any further. “He’s at the bunker with Jack. Everyone is okay. He wanted to be here, but, uh… I told him to hang back in case Michael…”

“A month?” In Hell, a month on Earth had been equal to ten years of torture. Possessed by an archangel was so much longer. He shakes his head when Sam furrows his brow in question. “Can we go home?” 

“Yeah.” He doesn’t need to be asked. He helps Dean up and steps away, knowing full well the help to walk won’t be accepted. Sam walks ahead a little bit and Dean can hear him talking to Mary and Bobby. They’re staying to clean up the mess. Michael’s mess. 

Dean avoids looking at Sam as he slides into the passenger seat without a word. He shrugs off his jacket and pulls at the bowtie around his neck while he waits for Sam. 

“Can you text Donna that I’m okay?” he asks. “I need a new phone,” he adds. 

“Yeah, of course,” Sam nods. “You can use my phone if you want.” He holds out his phone but Dean looks away. 

The world outside is dark. The stars are tiny pinpricks of light, but it’s too far away. Their warmth doesn’t exist. Dean hasn’t seen the sun for a month. He hasn’t seen a blue sky or blue eyes for a month. He stares out the window and wonders how long it’s been since he’s eaten and why he’s not hungry. 

Sam’s phone starts ringing. He’s driving but he picks up as Dean balls the jacket up under his head and turns further toward the window. 

“Hey, Donna,” Sam answers. It’s nice to hear people talking. It’s nice to see the world outside the window flying past. It’s nice to be able to breathe, his warm breath fogging up the glass in slow puffs. “No, yeah, he’s fine. He, uh… He’s sleeping right now.” Sam pauses as Donna speaks, her voice muffled by the phone. 

“Give me the phone,” Dean says, reaching behind him. Sam hands it to him. “Hey, Donna.”

“Dean! You sound like you were run over by a train. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. It’s good to hear your voice.” He doesn’t want to close his eyes, afraid of seeing nothing again. “You sound worried. What did Sam tell you?” 

“Not a whole lot. Just that someone went and got possessed by an archangel who wants to take over the world. Nothing major.” He can hear the slight scolding and it makes him smile. Just a little. 

“What an idiot. Who would do something like that?” Dean scoffs. 

She laughs. Just a little. “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

He doesn’t know if he is. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. In the dark again, he feels like he can’t breathe. His eyes snap open and he sits up suddenly, panting. 

“Dean?” Donna and Sam say at the same time. 

“I’ll talk to you later. Bye, Donna.” He hangs up before she can answer, his hands balling into fists as he forces himself to breathe slowly.

“You okay?” Sam asks, glancing from the road to Dean. 

Dean nods and hands Sam his phone back. “I’m good.” 

By the time they arrive at the bunker, Dean is sitting up again and forcefully pulling at his hair to make it into something of a mess just to get it out of the combed and styled douchey look that Michael wore. Sam smiles through his beard. 

Dean can feel his stomach flip and fill with butterflies as they approach the bunker. The most stable home he’s ever had. The last place he saw Cas. The place where Cas is supposedly waiting. Having not slept or eaten, he’s surprised at how awake he is in this moment. 

“It’s just, every time I think about it, you know, it’s like a… it’s like a nightmare,” Dean says as they walk into the bunker from the garage. He knows he’s deflecting because of the sad looks his brother keeps giving him and the strange nervous excitement that is filling him. “I mean, I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. It’s always just there… watching.” 

“Dean, it’s just a beard,” Sam groans. He can hear the eyeroll. None of the pity is present. Mission accomplished. “I’ve been a little busy lately.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not an excuse. You know, ‘cause uh, Duck Dynasty called, and they just... they want it all back,” Dean says as he gestures to Sam’s, well, everything. 

“Some people say I look good,” Sam says with a weirdly smug grin. Nobody says that. Who would say that? Someone is lying. Sam or the person he talked to. 

“No. No, Sam. No people say that.” 

They laugh and for a minute it feels like how it once was. Two brothers against the world sitting back and getting to laugh. Pulling pranks, telling jokes, ignoring the rubble of the world as they allow themselves to be human for two seconds. 

Dean turns to continue their walk but Sam catches him by the arm. “Hey, hey. You, uh…” 

“Hey. If you’re gonna ask if I’m okay, you don't have to.” 

“Alright. It’s just, uh, you know, you didn’t talk a whole lot on the ride here.” 

“Look, Michael bailed, alright? I don’t know how. I don’t know why. He just… He cleared out.” This time when he starts walking, Sam follows. “And as far as my memory goes, I mean… Everything from the moment I said yes to the moment I walked through those doors is blank, so I’m good,” he lies easily. “I’m just really, really happy to be…” his words die in his throat as he looks over the crowd of strangers in the war room. 

Everything is loud and people are moving. Everyone has something to do and somewhere to be. The only person that matters is missing. Dean’s eyes bounce from person to person as he searches the sea of faces for the blue of his heart and the dark hair of his dreams.

“Dean?” Jack asks, standing from his seat and walking over. He looks much better than when Dean had last seen him. The last time he saw Jack, he was weak, his grace stolen, blood dripping from his nose as he stood over the body of his biological father. 

“Hey, kid,” Dean smiles a little. 

“Is it really you?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” he nods. With his confirmation from Sam too, Jack walks into Dean’s arms. 

“I missed you,” Jack says quietly. Dean pats his back a few times and they step away from each other. Dean doesn’t mean to, but as soon as he’s released, his eyes look up to find Cas. 

The room seems to go silent, the strangers disappear, the lights brighten and his heart pounds because Cas is there. Cas is there and his slanted eyes are still holding the tears he refused to cry a month ago. 

“Cas,” Dean breathes. “I love you,” he says as fast as he can as he races to him. “I love you. I should have said it then and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, love. I love you. I love you so damn much. I’m so sorry. Cas.” 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says gently against Dean’s lips as his thumbs wipe away the tears Dean didn’t notice he was crying. Dean kisses him back, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Cas’ arms wind around him, holding him tightly. “Hello, love,” he murmurs as Dean burrows his face into Cas’ shoulder. 

“Cas.” 

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispers. “I wanted to be there, but we figured that Michael would sense my presence. I wanted to be there.”

“I know.” Dean’s voice is muffled by the trenchcoat, but he knows Cas can understand him. He takes a deep breath, unwilling to let go of his boyfriend while knowing that he’s standing in a crowded room crying. He steps back and wipes his face with one hand while the other catches Cas’. Their fingers lace together as Dean looks toward his exit. 

“I’m gonna…” He clears his throat instead of finishing his sentence and starts toward the doorway. 

Sam says something but Dean barely hears him. “We’re okay,” Cas says to Sam before he follows Dean into the hallway. 

“I think I need a shower,” Dean says as they walk toward the room. 

“You look like you need to sleep,” Cas adds. “And maybe more than four hours.” 

“Definitely more than four hours,” Dean agrees, wiping his free hand down his face. 

Dean sits on the floor of the bathroom facing the shower. His towel is wrapped around his waist and he still hasn’t showered. Michael’s clothes are piled in the corner. He wants to burn them or cut them into confetti. The shower is running and all he can think about is if the water touches his lips. Will all of this vanish? Will he open his eyes to a blank abyss? Will he scream? 

“Dean?” Cas’ voice comes through the door. 

“Mm.” 

Cas opens the door and steps in, shutting the door behind him again quickly. He looks from the empty shower with steam billowing out of it to Dean, unbathed and sitting on the floor. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’ve been drowning,” Dean says without looking up, “for a month.” Cas is quiet as he takes a seat next to Dean. “I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t feel anything but pain. I could  _ feel _ the water in my lungs, Cas. If I go in there, I will lose you. I’ll be back where I was. All of this was a dream, and I’ll be alone, drowning and fighting forever.” 

Cas doesn’t try to tell him that his fears are unfounded. He doesn’t try to defend reality. He just stands up again and strips, hanging his clothes carefully before stepping into the shower. The water cascades down, flattening his hair and dripping over his face. He holds out a hand to Dean and waits. 

“If I wake up in the dark because of this, I will kill you,” Dean warns as he stands up. 

“If you don’t?” Cas asks seriously.

“Then I’ll kiss you.” Dean hangs up his towel and grabs Cas’ hand like the lifeline it is as the water touches his skin. He flinches but nothing changes. He steps into the stream of water and keeps his worried eyes open, connected with Cas’. Blue like the sky. Blue like the oceans. Blue of flowers, butterflies, and birds, their wings extended as they soar. 

“He’s really gone,” Dean exhales. He smiles and takes Cas’ face in between his hands before kissing him tenderly. He melts into the kiss, their lips puzzle pieces to the other’s. His arms relax as he hugs Cas against him.

“What’s this?” Cas asks, pulling away to inspect Dean’s arm after his fingers graze his shoulder. A massive scar marks him. Cas runs his fingers over the red, raised skin gently. 

“I don’t know.” 

“What did he do to you?” Cas whispers angrily. 

“I’m okay,” Dean says, lifting Cas’ face to his. “We’ll worry about it later.” Their lips brush and Dean weaves his fingers into his boyfriend’s wet hair as he kisses him. 


	21. Chapter 21

Dean had needed to move. He had needed to get out of that over-crowded bunker and away from the walls. Away from all the people calling his brother “chief” and the worried looks directed at him. He’s in his car, driving. He’s taking back roads, speeding as fast as he pleases with no one else around. There’s no chance of cops on these roads and there’s not another car for days. He doesn’t bother looking at his speedometer to see how fast he’s going. It’s relaxing enough to see the world rush by his open windows while Metallica blasts from the speakers. 

He’s on his way to Donna’s. She has the next two days off and deserves more than a phone call. Sam is busy training a new batch of hunters and Cas is with Jack, helping him with his transition of nephilim to human.  
“I’m the only person who has any idea of what he’s going through,” Cas had said when Dean had asked how the kid was doing. “He shouldn’t have to do this alone.” 

He digs into the green cooler that he has sitting in the passenger seat instead of its usual spot in the back. Cas had packed him a sandwich which made taking the backroads much less stressful. No burger joints in the middle of nowhere, but there is a delicious homemade sandwich made by an angel. 

When Dean stops for gas, he checks his phone. Two texts. One from Cas, the other from Donna, both asking where he is. 

“Grabbing gas. ETA 1 hr.” Dean sends to Donna.

“Almost there. Love you.” he sends to Cas.   


One hour later, Dean pulls into Donna’s driveway. It’s dinner time and the sun is setting, but all of the lights are on in her house, illuminating every window. He sends a quick text to Cas to tell him he made it before he gets out of the car while grabbing his duffle. 

The door flings open before he can knock. His best friend flings her arms around him, forcing him to bend down a little. “Never do that to me again,” she warns, her voice muffled in his shoulder. 

“I don’t plan on it,” he promises, hugging back just as tight. He opens his eyes and sees the balloons. “We’re not about to try to get your house to float to Paradise Falls by any chance, are we?” he asks into her shoulders. 

“Oh, did you have a better idea for this weekend?” she half laughs as she lets him go and turns to look at the overindulgence of balloons that fill her living room. 

“No. Let’s do it,” he says with a smirk as he walks inside. He drops his bag by the couch as always and smiles to himself. There has never been an  _ as always _ before. Not in a good way anyway. He kicks off his boots and walks into the living room as he looks up at the balloons. 

“I overdid it.” 

“No.” He shakes his head and looks at her. “No, but we will have to do helium karaoke now.” Her face splits into that sunshiney grin. 

“How was the drive?” she asks.

“Felt good to drive.” He plops onto the couch and swallows down the part that it felt good to be in control after so long. “I thought Sam was gonna fight me, but he thought it was a good idea for me to come here too. Relax a little. See you. Be away from that.” 

“I woulda fought him for this,” she says seriously. 

“I know.” He smiles a little as he sighs. “I would have too.” 

“Choose. Your. Song!” Donna says like a video game narrator as she hands Dean the remote to the tv she just set up for karaoke. 

“Anyway,” he says, trying not to laugh too hard that he won’t be able to sing, “here’s Wonderwall.” He grabs a balloon as he presses play and sucks in a lungful of helium before belting out the first line in a high-pitched squeak. “Today is gonna be the day that they’re gonna throw it back to you!”

Donna bursts out laughing, clapping a hand over her mouth to try to stifle it, but it’s no use. He grins as he sings, taking sips from his balloon every so often. His own giggles are high and deranged sounding. 

“Top that,” he taunts as his song ends. 

“Easily,” she grins mischievously. She grabs a balloon and Dean already knows that he has to up his game after seeing her song choice. “Just a small-town girl,” Donna squeaks, “livin’ in a  _ lonely world!” _

Dean cheers from the couch, whooping and laughing and allowing himself to have a good time. She harnesses her air drums and Dean backs her up with the air guitar. She flips her golden hair and marches around the living room with the microphone as she belts out the classic in a mouse’s squeak.

“Alright, alright,” Dean says as she passes him the mic. “But girls just wanna have fun,” he says as the eighties intro plays. Donna doesn’t bother sitting down. She’s singing this one with him. “I come home! In the morning light my mother yells,” Dean sings.

“When you gonna live your life right?” Donna sings back.

“Oh, mother dear, we’re not the fortunate ones,” Dean laughs. There’s too much laughing for it to be considered singing. 

“And girls! They wanna have fun!” Donna and Dean sing loudly into the microphone between them, both forgetting their helium as they rock out to Cyndi Lauper. By the end of the song, they are both on the floor, singing at the top of their lungs, “They just wanna! They just wannaaaaa! Girls just wanna have fun!”

They devolve into laughter. The kind that takes over entirely and can be felt in every muscle. The kind that feels good as Dean throws his head back and allows the sound of it to fill the room with hers. 

“I missed you,” Donna sighs contentedly after the laughing dies down. “Thanks for comin’.”

“Oh, you think this is for you?” He rolls his head to the side to look at her. “This is entirely selfish. I needed this.  _ I  _ missed  _ you _ .” 

“I like selfish Dean,” Donna announces, her face lifted to the ceiling and her face bright with her joy. 

They stay on the floor, listening and singing along to music until there’s a knock at the door. 

“I’ll get it.” Dean gets up and goes to the door. Two large pizzas are handed over and he walks them into the kitchen, setting them on the dining room table. “One for me, one for you?” he asks as Donna walks in. 

“Yep!” She grabs two beers from the fridge and uncaps them. 

Dean opens one of the boxes and finds a meat lover’s pizza. He takes his seat in front of that box and accepts his beer, clinking the bottles before taking a sip. 

“So,” he says around a bite of pizza. “Jody?”  
  
Donna’s face lights up with joy while also turning a wonderful shade of pink. He remembers the phone call where she had gushed that she’d been kissed. It feels like it was years ago, but it’s only been about two months. Maybe less. 

“Jody,” she says finally. “I’m so happy, ya know? I didn’t think she could ever even want to be with someone like me. But she is and it makes me feel warm and like I’m burstin’ with rainbows and glitter and sunshine.” She grins and takes another bite. 

“I’m glad she asked you out. You make a fuckin’ weird and cute couple.” 

“Wait,” Donna says, swallowing her bite suddenly and fixing Dean with a scrutinizing glare. “Did you know she liked me?” 

“Jody? No.” He laughs in spite of himself. “No. We don’t talk about that kind of stuff. I met her at a really dark time. We don’t really talk about dating.” 

“Didn’t you know about Asa?” 

“Not ‘till his funeral,” Dean says, shaking his head. “She seems happy though.” He saw her only a few days ago. Tensions are high with the mutant monsters and an apocalyptic Michael on the loose, but she’s happy. She has a house full of her adopted, wayward daughters. She has a brand new relationship with a beautiful woman who also happens to be a Sheriff and hunter. Despite the world seemingly being on its last legs, things are looking up. “Any dates planned?”

“Well, she’s only four hours away so we planned to meet in the middle sometime next week.” Donna gives a small squeal of excitement. He couldn’t be happier for her. He’d been worried that she would fall into the depression pit that she’d been left in after her divorce when he saw the look on her face when second Doug had walked out the door. He had thought it would be a long time until he would see the unrestrained smile that Donna could trademark she wears it so well. 

“Are you still hunting?” Dean asks even though he doesn’t exactly mean to. “With all of this,” he gestures vaguely, “going on?” 

“You betcha. I’m a lot tougher than I used to be,” she says. Her smile slips a little as she asks, “Are you?” 

“Oh, yeah.” He nods and takes a sip of his beer. He’ll hunt until the day he dies, guns blazing. “Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” he half-laughs, heart sinking.

The leftovers are put into one box and shoved into the fridge. Two more beers are opened and pajamas are donned. With his black plaid pajamas, Dean sits in his black hoodie on the porch swing in Donna’s backyard. She’s inside grabbing “one more thing” while he watches the fire they built in her fire pit. It crackles, the flames licking up the wood and reaching for the star-studded sky. 

“When’s your birthday?” Donna asks as she sits next to him, draping a thick blanket over her legs. 

“Where do you come up with these questions?” Dean asks. 

“How have we been friends for this long and we’ve never celebrated our birthdays together?” She has a point, but Dean doesn’t celebrate his birthday. He hasn’t for a very long time. Too many bad memories are associated with it now. He’s left it in the past. 

“January,” he says vaguely. “You?” 

“July.” She’s trying not to smile and failing miserably. “What day? Why is it like pulling teeth?”

“You first,” Dean counters, trying to stall until he finds a way to avoid ever actually answering. He doesn’t want her to know only because she will acknowledge it. She’ll send him a text or call him. Or she’ll set up banners in the bunker and arrive with a cake. Not too bad for someone who likes to be noticed. Awful for Dean. 

“July fifteenth,” Donna says proudly with a wide grin that tells him that her birthdays have always been magical. “Now you.”

“I’ll tell you in January,” he lies. 

“What! Why?” 

“So you don’t go planning anything.” Dean takes a sip of his beer and tries not to laugh at the look on her face. Her unused birthday plans have gone down the drain. 

“What’s the point?” she asks, throwing her hands up. “Men.” 

“So, what do you want me to do for your birthday?” Dean asks, nudging her with his shoulder and living her a sideways glance. “Since you’ll probably be with  _ Joooooodyyyy. _ ”

“I don’t know.” She’s blushing at the mention of her girlfriend and everything about that is perfect. Dean smiles and sips his beer. “Maybe the four of us could do somethin’?”

“You want a double date for your birthday?” He asks, one eyebrow raised. 

“I don’t know!” She laughs and buries her face in her hands. “It sounds fun though, doesn’t it? I mean, we all like each other.”

“Jody hasn’t met Cas yet,” Dean points out. 

“But… You’ve known her longer?” 

“If it’s what you still want by July, I’ll make it happen,” Dean promises, side-stepping that question. He’s known Jody almost as long as he’s known Cas. She knows of him. She knows of angels. She’s just never actually met him or any other angel. And like he said earlier, they don’t talk about dating. 

Once upon a time, Jody had been a wife and a mother. Dean had only barely met that version of her. They had been in time to watch her husband die and shoot her zombie son. Sam had delivered that shot. Dean had been there during the burning. He’d stood next to her while her family members were laid to rest with the other undead “miracles,” burning with the promise of never returning again. Hell, Jody never even told Dean about her date with Crowley. Dean found out about that well after the fact. Not that Jody knew it was Crowley. But she never mentioned the date where she almost died. She never mentioned the date that she never saw again. Dean had been on the phone with Crowley as Jody was seconds from dying and he’d never have known it if Crowley hadn’t told him. No, they don’t talk about dating. Not when all of her tragedies seem to be tied to him. 

“What do you want to do this weekend?” Donna asks, dropping the subject swiftly. 

“I want to take you to have the world’s best burger.” He’s fairly simple. 

He and Sam have always talked about retirement. What they would do if there were no more monsters to hunt, no more people to save from the creatures that go bump in the night. Dean would like to drive like he does almost every day. He would like to eat good food from all over. He would like a place to call home with an angel he calls husband. He would like to mow the lawn on weekends and cuddle up with Cas to watch their soaps. He wants to get tired. He wants to grow old. 

“You think you know where the best burger is?” It’s a challenge. 

“Hell yeah I do!” 

“We’ll see about that. If I think I know a better place?” she asks with a grin that tells Dean she’s already sure she knows a better place. 

“Then next time we get together, you can prove me wrong.” 

“Deal.” She holds out her hand as if closing a deal. He takes it, shaking once before letting go. 

The evening winds down further. They’re back inside, tossing blankets and pillows into the living room. Dean makes himself a bed out of the longer couch while Donna throws her things onto the smaller one. He snuggles into his blankets and twists the ring around his finger on top of the blankets. 

“Ready?” Donna asks. He nods and she flicks the light out. 

Momentary panic sets in, telling him that he’s alone. He’s trapped inside. Michael… He stops his thoughts because none of them are true. His heart still hasn’t ceased leaping when water hits his face or when the lights turn out. The difference is, he can see the outlines of the coffee table, tv, and bookshelves. He can hear her footsteps on the way to her smaller couch. He can hear her humming. 

“ _ When you’re feeling weary….feelin’ small _ ,” she sings quietly. He feels like she’s reading his mind. “ _ When tears are in your eyes… I’ll dry them all. _ ” He reaches a hand over and she takes it, their pinkies linked like they were during their first pinky promise. The one right before she asked him if he’d ever been in love and he’d told her the truth on a dare. “ _ I’m on your side…. Oh, when times get rough. And friends just can’t be found. Like a bridge over troubled water, I’ll lay me down. Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down….” _

_ “When you’re down and out… When you’re on the street… When everything falls so hard, I’ll comfort you…”  _ she continues to sing. Donna has been that friend. The one he came out to. The very first person he came out to. The one he called to gush about Cas. The one he called to sob to when he’d lost him. He’d talked to her over the phone when he didn’t feel like talking to anyone. “ _ I’ll take your part… oh, when darkness comes and pain is all around.” _ He’d helped her past Doug. He’d showed up when she introduced him to the best thing in the world called a friendaversary. He’d held her as she cried over heartbreak. He’d been her phone call after her first kiss with Jody. They were friends over troubled water.  _ “Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down. Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down.”  _

_ “Sail on Silver Girl,” _ Dean answers, swinging their arms with a small tug. “ _ Sail on by. Your time has come to shine. All your dreams are on their way… See how they shine. Oh, if you need a friend, I’m sailing right behind. Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind. Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind.”  _


	22. Chapter 22

Dean wakes up slowly and looks around the sunlit room. Donna is snoring, but he’ll never tell. He can’t even see her face through the mane of hair. He sits up and rubs his hands over his face before grabbing his phone. There’s one text from Cas. It’s weird how a selfie can make Dean’s heart pound. He opens his front-facing camera and winces at how tired he looks. He gives a sleepy smirk and sends it. 

Coffee. He needs coffee. Dean gets up, draping his blanket around his shoulders like a cape as he walks to the kitchen. Her coffee beans are already ground in a tupperware in the freezer. He doesn’t have to search for a filter or the coffee maker. He grabs two mugs and leans against the counter, waiting for his caffeine fix to be ready. 

Dean scrolls through his phone. The best burger in the world. He’s eaten a lot of burgers and the list on his phone, while impressive, doesn’t even begin to cover how many different places he’s been to over the years. He remembers the table in “the green room” that Zachariah had zapped him to. There was a bucket of beer and a platter piled high with some of the worst burgers in the world. They were from a shack in Delaware. Zach mistook them as Dean’s favorite. He’d plucked a happy memory from his mind, but he didn’t understand that eating those burgers and enjoying them had nothing to do with the taste. He didn’t understand the joy that comes from an eleven year old with his seven year old brother eating after a few skipped meals. Of being alone on the waterfront with nothing but two burgers and the sunshine. 

A place comes up, and they look perfect. Matt’s Bar of Minneapolis. It’s only a forty-minute drive. Perfect for a small road-trip of a day. He saves the address and leaves his phone on the counter before pulling open the fridge to find breakfast. 

“Mmmph…” Donna groans in the living room. Dean pours the two mugs and brings her one. 

“Mornin’, little sister,” he says, putting her mug on the coffee table in front of her. She pushes her hair out of her face and looks up at him with a smile. 

“Did you make me coffee?” 

“Yes,” he nods. “And breakfast is in the works.” 

“You are the best. Has anyone ever told you that? Perfection. Too good for this world.” she says as she inhales the steam from her coffee. 

“I know it.” He grins because on the outside, he’s cocky and brilliant and can take compliments so well it comes off a little arrogant, but inside… Inside, he clings to the compliments. He holds them close and tries to protect them from the darker parts of his mind that try to tear them to bits so he has nothing to hold onto. 

“Thank you,” she smiles with her eyes closed. 

“No problem.” 

“I now present,” Dean announces dramatically as he walks her into the dining room with his hands over her eyes, “breakfast.” He takes his hands away and she beams. “Today, our chef has made omelets with cheddar cheese and bell peppers, a side of bacon, two slices of buttered toast, and an orange.” 

“And coffee,” she reminds him. 

“And coffee,” he agrees. They take their seats at the table, both still wrapped in their blanket capes. 

“Did I know you could cook?” she asks after her first bite. “This is amazing.” 

“I can’t cook,” he waves her off. 

“Uh, yeah you can.” 

Dean takes a bite that’s big enough to swallow the rest of that conversation. A morning of compliments, but this is one that feels more real and pointed. One that he definitely has not heard from anyone. He’s been cooking for Sam since the kid was old enough to eat solid food. He did the family thing and cooked for Lisa and Ben. He’s even cooked for Death. But no one really tells him he’s good at it. And he doesn’t expect them to. 

“Where’re we goin’ today?” Donna’s voice brings him back to her dining room. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he teases. “Only like a half an hour away though, so we can leave at eleven-thirty.”

They finish breakfast and Donna ushers Dean off to take a shower while she insists on doing the dishes. He had put up a fight, but she won when she told him that he would load the dishwasher wrong. He keeps his shower short and dresses in his jeans, a black t-shirt, and a flannel before styling his hair and brushing his teeth. 

“It’s going to smell like Dean in there, isn’t it?” Donna asks as they pass in the hallway. 

“I’m going to take that as a compliment and say yes. I smell damn good.” 

She rolls her eyes with a smile and closes the door behind her. He shoves his pj’s into his duffle bag and flops onto the couch. Dean looks at his phone and furrows his brow when he sees Cas’ text. He decides to call. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas answers. 

“Who told you about ‘destiel’?” Dean asks in lieu of a greeting. 

“Sam. He asked if we were pronouncing it destiel or deestiel?” Cas says. Dean runs a hand down his face but can’t help but smile. He hasn’t thought about that incident in years. Those girls who wrote the fanfiction play of Chuck’s novels would probably squeal if they knew about Dean and Cas actually getting together. “What is it?”

“Tell him to fuck off,” Dean says with a small laugh. “It’s our names together. Some girls came up with it years ago. They read those books.”

“The Winchester Gospel,” Cas corrects. 

“Yeah.” It’s been a long time since Chuck was just an alcoholic writer who was writing Stranger Than Fiction about Sam and Dean. 

“Chuck stopped writing before we starting dating,” Cas says. 

“Right.” Dean nods. “It’s called shipping, I think.”

“Shipping?”

“Sam probably knows better than I do. I don’t know how to explain it. They wanted our characters to get together so they gave it a name of a cross between our names: destiel.” 

“We aren’t characters?” Cas says slowly. 

“To them, we are.” 

“If it’s of our names, then it’s Dee-stiel,” Cas announces after a moment of silence. 

“What? No. That doesn’t… Cas, no.” Dean finds himself laughing. “I don’t think we get to choose. They already named it destiel.” 

“They didn’t ask us.” 

“They don’t know we’re real, sweetie!” 

“I’m telling Sam it’s Dee-stiel.” 

“Don’t you dare.” Dean sits up like he could race Cas to wherever Sam is to beat him to it. “Deestiel doesn’t sound right. How did this even come up? He’s known for, what, a year?”

“Have fun with Donna, love,” Cas sidesteps. 

“I love you.” He relaxes back into the couch, his phone still pressed to his ear. “It’s destiel though.” 

“I love you too.” 

Hanging up the phone with Cas leaves him with a goofy grin that goes with his twitterpated heart. It’s been ten years since they met, four years since they first kissed, one second since they last spoke, and still Dean can’t get enough of him. He guesses that he never will and Dean is looking forward to feeling this feeling forever. 

“Ready to go?” Dean asks as Donna puts her sunglasses on. 

“Oh yeah, you betcha!” she grins as she gets in the car. It’s a cold day, though the sun is shining. The car starts and with it, the music. “I didn’t take you for a Britney Spears guy,” Donna says.

“Remember when you told me to make Cas a mixtape?”

“Uh-huh… I thought you went with Zeppelin?” 

“Yeah, so Cas made me a mixtape of  _ his _ favorite music. Which is apparently a range of women pop singers from Beyoncé to Britney, bitch.” 

“Cas has good taste in music,” Donna says, turning up the volume for Toxic. “When did he give this to you?” 

“Last year after we told everyone.” Cas had wrapped it and given it to him over an anniversary dinner. After dinner, they’d listened to the tape together in the car, making a bed out of the backseat. He clears his throat and looks away from the rearview mirror, but Donna doesn’t seem to notice his blush. 

“I don’t even know what I’d put on a playlist for Jodes,” Donna muses.

“Are you going to?” 

“Maybe I should after seein’ how tooth-achin’ly sweet you two are!” she laughs. It’s contagious and Dean loves the way it feels to be free. 

“Remember the first time we were gettin’ burgers?” Donna asks as they slide into their booth. The seats are a weird brown but the tables are clean and the decorations on the walls all have a homey vibe. Above their table is a massive mirror that says  _ Killian’s Irish Red. _ It’s a great beer, one Dean’s had many times. 

“Mm,” Dean nods. 

“It meant everythin’,” she says seriously. “I wasn’t in the best place, ya know?” 

He furrows his brow. He’s seen her sad from breakups. He’s been there to hug her after tragic deaths and brutal walk-outs. He still can’t imagine his ray of sunshine being anything other than her bubbly self. “No.”

“It wasn’t that I wasn’t over him,” she says, looking down at her menu without reading it. She looks back up at him and sighs. “I know I was lettin’ him walk all over me. Part of me thought I deserved it. Part of me hated me, ya know? And you took that salad away and told me to love myself. You didn’t tell me I couldn’t do somethin’. I started lovin’ me again. I just wanted to thank ya.” 

Dean’s stomach knots. He has no idea what to say. She’s always been the stronger one of the two. She’s always been the definition of happiness and rainbows. “You know you’re family now, right?” is all he can say. 

“I love you too,” she says, her face splitting into a wide smile. 

The waiter comes and she orders them both Jucy Lucy burgers and the same beer. Dean doesn’t say anything when she orders for him, just raises an eyebrow. 

“If we’re tryin’ to find the best burger, we can’t be eatin’ two different things,” she explains. “Do’ya wanna do some things while we’re in Minneapolis?” 

“Like what?” His life doesn’t involve a lot of sight-seeing. He’s been back and forth over this country and he’s barely seen anything. 

“The sculpture garden and stone arch bridge aren’t far from here,” she shrugs. “If you wanna go for a walk.” 

“This sounds suspiciously like Sam talking.” Dean sits back in his seat and plays with the ketchup bottle. “What’s this about?”

“Sam didn’t know you were takin’ me to Minneapolis,” she counters. “I need to soak up my Dean time. I was worried. We all were.” 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. We can go anywhere you want.” She nods and he looks over his shoulder. “I always kind of wanted to be a bartender,” Dean says, looking over at the long bar. “Well, owner, I guess too.”

“Really?” She follows his gaze to the taps and stacks of glasses. 

“Yeah, I guess. There’s only a few jobs I ever thought about,” he confesses. “My dad was a mechanic. So was Bobby. I love working on Baby. I’m good at it. So how is that a dream job? I have it already. Owning a bar is something… new.” He shrugs and turns back to her. “What would you do if you weren’t a Sheriff?” 

“I’d like to be a singer,” she says. “We can open up our own place. You run the bar and I… I bring in all the customers.”

“Sounds great,” Dean laughs as the waiter comes back to their table with two burgers and two beers. “Oh man,” Dean groans with the first bite. “Yes.” 

“Need a room?” she asks before she takes her first bite. “Mmmm,” she smiles with closed lips. 

“Need a room?” he teases. 

The serious talk comes after the delight in the burgers. It comes after a selfie with a massive spoon holding a gigantic cherry. It comes when Dean has his hands in the pockets of his jacket while he walks beside Donna. 

“When you told me about the time that you ate the salad,” Donna says slowly, “it was because you wouldn’t say yes to Michael.” Dean’s stomach drops at the name. He clenches his jaw and looks up at the blue sky. “Why’d you do it?” 

“This time was different,” he says after a moment. He can see his breath on the frigid air. “This… I…” He sighs, frustrated with himself. “Last time… I was supposed to fight Sam. Gift wrap Lucifer in his box with all four of us inside. This time there was no box. Sam and Jack were in trouble. I wasn’t fighting my brother, I… I was fighting for him.” He sighs and looks down at her. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like that, but I was stupid. Never say yes to an angel, arch or not.”

“Promise,” she says, holding out her pinky finger. He takes it with a half-smile. 

“Wanna do something fun that has absolutely nothing to do with me being overprotective?” Dean asks. She can’t help but smile so he does too. 

“And what would that be?” she asks.

“Go get a tattoo.” 

“Got one in mind?” she asks suspiciously. He pulls at the collar of his shirt. She’s seen it before, back when they were swimming together. It probably meant nothing to her then. 

“Anti-possession,” he says.

“Lotta good it did you,” she points out. 

He shakes his head. “It works against demons. Should have taken you to get one the same night you ganked that vamp nest.”

“Hunter initiation?” 

“Belated, but yes. Sorry,” he says with a sheepish shrug. 

“I’m in,” she grins excitedly. 

Dean sketches out the symbol on a page in the tattoo shop. Donna watches quietly as if studying it. He presents it, holding it upright for her to see. She tilts it so the star is upside down. He rights it again. 

“Yours doesn’t look like that,” she says, tilting it again. 

“Mine is upside down,” he says, avoiding her eyes. “Yours won’t be.” 

“Why's yours upside down?” 

“From when I, uh, got sick,” he says, waving his hand in front of his eyes, not wanting to say anything for the artist to overhear. 

“Oh,” she says, understanding though they weren’t really friends then. She hadn’t known about monsters when he’d been a demon. She hadn’t even known his real last name yet. 

The artist comes back from processing her paperwork and takes a look at Dean’s sketch. He takes Donna and Dean into the back room where she lays on her side, her jeans pulled down to reveal her upper thigh while Dean sits in a chair by her head. 

“This your first?” the artist asks.

“Nah,” she says. “Got one on my ankle back in college.” 

“You  _ rebel _ ,” Dean says, mock scandalized. 

She holds his hand gently while she gets tattooed. There’s only a few times her grip tightens, but just barely. She tries not to laugh, to keep from messing up the tattoo while she talks to Dean and her artist. 

“Who else has one of these?” Donna asks, looking down at her thigh. The symbol is about halfway done, the black a stark contrast to the pale skin of her thigh. 

“Well, Sam and I. Jody went with Bobby way back when. Some friends, Kevin and his mom. Charlie got hers but I wasn’t there when she got it. I think Claire and Alex got theirs because of Jody, but I never asked.” He plays with Donna’s hair with his free hand. “Friends.”

“Kevin?” Donna asks. The only name she hasn’t heard. 

“He’s not around anymore,” Dean says, his eyes flitting from Donna to the artist. “He was a good kid.” 

“Now me,” she says with a smile. 

He nods. “Now you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made a playlist of Cas' mixtape for Dean. If you want to listen to it, [here it is](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1jeuZvwqCXcia1EGWtI2gp?si=1KyKNh5uTDGELXSlLrgtwg)!


	23. Chapter 23

When Dean gets out of the shower the next day, Donna has rearranged the living room. The coffee table has disappeared and there is a massive blanket fort in the center of the room. He looks around, drops his pj’s into his duffle, and walks to the edge of the blanket fort. He pulls back a flap and looks inside. There’s a picnic blanket surrounded by pillows. He looks over his shoulder again before ducking inside and sitting, careful not to wreck it. 

“Fudgsicles! I was hopin’ to finish before you got out of the shower,” Donna says. She has a basket with her that she puts between her and Dean. 

“What is even happening right now?” Dean asks, unable to keep the smile from his face. 

“It’s too cold outside to do a picnic, so I thought we’d just have one inside,” she says, opening the basket and taking out the prepared lunch. “Pop,” she says, handing Dean a Dr. Pepper. 

“How’s Wendy doing?” Dean asks out of the blue as Donna sets up their plates. 

“She’s good,” Donna says with a small but proud nod. “She’s finishin’ up her first semester of college. She told everyone she doesn’t want another car. Not yet.” 

“Glad she’s okay.”

“Oh yeah, you betcha,” Donna smiles. “She’s still livin’ at home with her parents, though. She asked to stay here but my brother wouldn’t hear it.” 

“Have you ever wanted kids?” He thinks about Jody, taking in every teenager with a scary story. If Donna had taken in Wendy, what a pair they would make. 

“Oofta,” Donna sighs. She thinks about it for a moment, biting into her sandwich and chewing slowly. “I think I did at the beginning. I would take Wendy in any day, but bein’ her aunt is rewardin’ enough. You?” 

“I never thought it was in the cards for me,” Dean says honestly. “I was told I was a soldier. That was it. I didn’t think about it. Sammy was my kid. And I was sure he was going to have kids. Especially when I met his girl.” 

“Sam had a girl?” 

“Jessica.” Dean nods. Guilt ripples through him even after all the time that’s passed. “When I met her I could picture it, you know? The white picket fence, the two kids, a big dog, a happy couple.” Dean looks down at his sandwich in his hands. “I wanted that for him. I wanted to be the uncle. I wanted to babysit for their date nights or just so they could nap. I wanted to go to soccer games or ballet recitals, graduations.”

Dean’s laugh is hollow. He takes another bite and looks up. She’s nodding. She understands. 

“I know that I had a daughter, but that wasn’t normal circumstances,” he says. “I think I have a son, but his mom was pretty adamant that he wasn’t mine. I got to pretend for a year when we lived together though. I loved being that kid’s dad.” He takes a deep breath, pushing the memories of Ben away. “Now I have Jack.”

“Now Sam’s the uncle,” Donna says. “How’s Jack?”

“He’s  _ human _ ,” Dean smiles a little. “I mean, I would have liked him to keep his powers. But he’s actually doing pretty well. He’s learning to fight without powers. He sleeps more. He eats more. We went on a solo hunt recently. I’m proud of him, but I’m scared too.”

“Why’re you scared?” 

“He wants to hunt so badly.” Dean shakes his head as he thinks about it. “Sure, he’s a nephilim. He was literally born into this life. I didn’t want to raise my kids to hunt. I don’t want to be like…” He trails off. This is the closest he’s come to actually talking about his father and his upbringing with Donna. He clears his throat before silencing himself with a large sip of soda. 

“How old were you?” she asks. 

“When?” 

“When you started hunting.” 

“I don’t remember my first hunt. I was on the road with my dad by my fifth birthday, though. I don’t actually remember not being in the life.” He tries to ignore her wincing at the idea of a five year old out hunting for demons. “I guess I kind of liked the idea of Jack getting to walk away from it. But he doesn’t want that. He wants to fight. He wants to go out on hunts with me.”

“He looks up to you,” Donna smiles. “It’s cute.”

“He asked me a lot of questions about love too,” Dean laughs. “How does someone know they’re in love? How did I know I was in love? How did Cas know? How do you flirt? How do you kiss? What do you do when you fall in love? Slow down, kid. Stop growing up. Stop it.”

“That’s so  _ cute _ !” Donna squeals, giggling. 

“Are we done?” Dean asks, gesturing to the plates. Donna nods and he cleans up the picnic lunch quickly. When he gets back to the living room, Donna has dragged a boardgame into their blanket fort. “What’s this?”

“The Game of Life,” Donna says, waving her hand over the half-set up board. 

“Give me those student loans. I’m goin’ to college,” Dean announces, getting comfortable inside the fort again. Donna hands him the starter cash and bank loans. 

“Fan these out,” Donna instructs, handing him the career cards. He shuffles them up and holds them out. She still closes her eyes before she plucks a card from his hand. “Artist!”

“Monet or Picasso style?” 

“Davinci,” she says, handing him the salary cards to do the same thing. “Twenty thousand. Oofta.” 

“Maybe your art will be worth more when you retire,” Dean offers. After a few turns, he becomes a doctor, “Doctor Sexy!” earning seventy thousand. 

When Donna reaches the wedding space, Dean hums the song as he grabs a second pink peg to hand to her. 

“Why don’t we get a second job and salary card when we get married?” Dean asks. 

“We should. She’s not a housewife. The wife of the modern, female Davinci is a hard workin’ woman!” Donna exclaims. 

“Damn straight!” Dean says, fanning out the career cards again. “New rules!” 

“She’s a police officer,” Donna says, blushing immediately. She draws the fifty thousand salary card for her wife and bites her lip with a smile. 

“You certainly have a type,” Dean laughs. 

“I wonder who Dr. Sexy is going to marry,” Donna muses, trying to take the heat off of her and out of her cheeks. 

“Let’s hope he’s got a cool job.” Dean draws blindly and comes up with superstar. “Oh, damn. I married a rockstar.” He picks a salary card and flips it so Donna can see. “And he’s popular.” Ninety thousand. 

Dean is the first to land on a baby space. “It’s a girl!” Donna announces, handing him a pink peg. 

“My husband is becoming a stay-at-home-dad,” Dean says, handing back the extra salary and career card. “He made an announcement at his last concert that it was time to settle down for family life.” 

“So dedicated,” Donna says, a hand over her heart. “What’s her name?”

“Donna,” he answers. “After this crazy artist that’s pretty cool.” 

“What a great name,” she grins. 

Dean lands on two more children spaces, naming them Jack and Megatron. Donna lands on the twins space and names them Sam and Dean. 

“My wife and I discussed it,” Donna says as she fits the two blue pegs into her car, “and this is a two-income household and it’s gonna stay that way or our boys are never gonna be able to go to college. We’re tryin’ to get into Millionaire Estates too.”

“Overrated. Cas and I are going to Countryside Acres when this is all over.” 

“You would.” Donna clicks her tongue and shakes her head. 

By the end of the game, Dean and Donna are both lying down with their piles of life tiles and taking turns reading off what their pegs achieved. 

“I cured the common cold,” Dean announces. “Awesome.”

“Best doctor ever.” She picks a tile from the pile on her chest. “I found a new energy source.”

“What was it?”

“It’s, uh…” She twirls the tile in the air above their heads. “I found a way to turn trash into energy we can use so we have a chance at undoin’ the damage in the landfills.” He nods appreciatively while he picks his next tile. 

“Cas and I climbed Mt. Everest,” Dean says. “And survived.” 

“Was it cool?” 

“It was fucking freezing,” Dean deadpans, making Donna giggle. “Have you seen that movie? Everest?” 

“No. Should I?” 

“I think we have to. I got the Life tile telling me I climbed it.” 

“Okay. I’ll clean up the game. You make a blanket fort tunnel to the tv so we can watch from inside.” Dean nods and gets out of the fort to build the tunnel from the outside, figuring out how exactly they’re going to do this. 

They watch the tragedy unfold onscreen from the safety of their blanket fort and pillowed nest, a bowl of popcorn shared between them. 

Don’t ask Dean how he ended up playing Tic-Tac-Toe after dinner. It’s not a game he’s played since he was bored in middle school. The only thing is, instead of playing normally, it’s been turned into a drinking game and he’s not sure who’s winning anymore. 

“Okay, okay,” Donna says as Dean takes a shot. “Have you ever googled yourself?” She immediately starts laughing and apologizing for how dirty it sounds. 

“Fuuuuuck no.” Dean shakes his head. “Have you?”

“Mine’s borin’. I’m a Sheriff.” She shrugs.

“And a damn good one,” Dean says with a nod. “And I think I win.” 

“Swiffer sweeper,” she fake swears. She throws back the remaining shots on the board, not that there are many after how defensively they were both playing. “I’m lookin’ you up, mister.”

“Don’t. It’s gonna be bad,” he warns her. 

“Can’t be worse than when we looked up your rap sheet in the database.” They sit back, shoulder to shoulder, as she pulls out her phone and types in his name. 

“You said you wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh, hello? You were bein’ held in a secret FBI prison in the middle of nowhere for tryin’ to kill the President,” Donna points out. He nods. It’s fair. She looks back at her phone and makes a face. “What in the heck is  _ Supernatural _ ?” 

“The books or to tv show? Does the tv show even exist here?” 

“A book series that ended abruptly by Carver Edlund,” she reads. “Let’s see.” She doesn’t realize that this is real and that those books focus on him and his brother. Dean covers his face, knowing that if he tries to keep her from reading it, she’ll read it anyway. 

He peeks through his fingers and finds some kind of fandom page up. There’s a character box with a picture from the front cover of one of the books. To be fair, it’s a romanticized version of him so it doesn’t really look like him. The picture has a military cut and his muscles are extreme. His sleeves are rolled up like a greaser from the fifties. All of that, and the description below still matches him to a t. 

“He has a brother named Sam too,” Donna laughs. Dean cringes. “And a best friend… Castiel…” She glances at him, her brows furrowed. “And a ‘67 Chevy Impala. Dean, are you Carver Edlund?” 

“What?” Dean drops his hands from his face. “No! No, no! Carver Edlund is God’s penname.” 

“I’m friends with a famous book character?” 

“Not that famous. Niche cult maybe.” He shrugs like a not-so-humble movie star might if someone were to tell them that  _ they _ were famous. “Finding out about the books was fucked up,” he admits. “I’m not actually convinced that he was God back then.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Chuck Shirley was a prophet. A drunk guy in a dirty robe who wrote books and hired hookers from the phone book. Cas even said that prophet’s names were all burned onto the eyelids of every angel and no more than one prophet could exist at a time. Right? So he couldn’t have been lying, could he? Cas said he was a prophet and Chuck nearly had a coronary. He died and Kevin became the next prophet. Chuck came back, but he wasn’t the same. He wasn’t afraid of his own shadow or sweating vodka.” Dean shrugs. “Maybe we really met Chuck Shirley before God took his body.” 

“You live such a weird life,” Donna says, shaking her head. 

“I could be wrong, but it’s more unsettling to think that Chuck was always God. Just screwing us over and playing pretend.” He shrugs. “It was weirder when Sam and I went to Bizarro Earth where we were actors,” Dean laughs. “We were playing Sam and Dean and everything was fake. We had all these credit cards that were real? Our names were insane. Jensen Ackles and Jared… Padaleski? Pada-something. Cas was called Misha. Like  _ Misha _ ? Really? I don’t know. It was a  _ day _ .” 

“Remind me that I never want to switch places with you,” she laughs. “Have you read the books?”

“Yeah. You’re not allowed.” She only laughs in response. “I’m serious,” he warns her. 

“Donuts!” she announces. She hands Dean her phone and crawls out of the blanket fort to grab the powdered donuts they were saving for dessert. 

Dean closes out of the fansite and deletes it from her history hoping she won’t dig into it once she’s sober. Donna comes back with a plate of powdered donuts and he raises her phone to take a picture of her. She flashes a brilliant smile just in time and shakes her head at him after the picture is taken. He gives her phone back as she sits down. 

“So you’ve been in books and a tv show. What else?” she asks as she grabs a donut and takes a messy bite, effectively covering her mouth with white powder. 

“Fanfiction. A musical.” He takes a bite and this time she snaps a picture of him. “What have you been in?” 

“As a character? Nothin’. As me? I was in a play once in school a very,  _ very _ , long time ago.” She scooches closer and holds the phone up to capture them both. They look ridiculous in the screen, fine powder all over their faces like they both failed and succeeded during a cocaine binge. “This is my new favorite one of us,” she announces. 

“Send it to me and I’ll make it your contact photo.” 

“Promise?” she grins. He laughs and nods, taking another bite of his donut as she sends the pic to him. He keeps his promise, quickly changing her profile photo. 

It’s sometime in the early morning, but Dean is still awake. Some might still call it night. Donna is asleep, curled up in the blanket fort with two pillows and a fuzzy blanket thrown over her. The tv is muted, but Dean is watching a telenovela, the kind that play at odd hours. He’s scrolling on his phone, not really paying attention while he watches the maid find her long lost twin. When he does glance back down at his phone, he’s accidentally hit an ad for a flower delivery service.

He scrolls through the bouquets and various flower arrangements and stops when he sees one called “Sunny Sentiments.” It’s made up of white and yellow. Daisies and yellow roses with lilies. He orders them and puts his phone down before pulling the blankets up around his shoulders. 

There’s no reason for Dean to try to stay awake. He has to drive home in a few hours. Donna is already asleep. He’s comfortable and the maid on the telenovela is rejoicing, crying as she hugs her sister. He falls asleep at the start of the next episode, his head cradled in the crook of his arm as his eyes finally slide shut. 


	24. Chapter 24

Donna shakes the red and green sprinkles onto the whipped cream that sits on top of the peppermint hot cocoa she had perfected. Jody is in the living room, cuddled up under a blanket as she finishes the coffee that Donna had made first so she would be awake enough for the Christmas breakfast she had prepared. The cocoa goes onto a tray with cinnamon rolls and fruit. 

“Wow.” Jody’s face lights up when Donna brings her the tray and crawls under the blanket with her. Jody kisses Donna gently and smiles. “This is perfect.” 

“Merry Christmas,” Donna grins, lifting her mug and clinking it against Jody’s. It’s their first holiday together as a couple. This is the Christmas that they will spend in total bliss, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Oh my god,” Jody says after her first sip, her eyes widening as she looks at Donna. “This is amazing.” 

“Why’re you surprised?” Donna laughs. She gets up and grabs the two stockings that are filled with presents. They’d filled each other’s stockings the night before, hiding them from each other as they did so. 

Jody picks the first present off the top of hers and gives Donna a questioning look. “A mix CD?” 

“It’s a thing. I don’t know. You have a CD player in your car, right?” Donna can feel herself blushing, but it’s the good kind. 

“I haven’t gotten one of these in years,” Jody muses. “Thank you.” She kisses Donna’s cheek. “I’ll listen to it on the way home tomorrow. Crap. I should have made you one.” 

“Valentine’s Day is right around the corner,” Donna waves her off, digging into her gifts excitedly.

By the time they each reach the bottom of their stockings, the cinnamon rolls are gone, the cocoa vanished, and Donna is curled up against Jody as she flips through the new book Jody had given her. The rest of her presents are piled in between her crossed legs and Jody’s fingers are running through her hair slowly. 

“You are gorgeous,” Jody says gently. Donna looks up at her girlfriend, her heart in her eyes, and beams. 

“Didn’t think I was dating such a softie.” 

“Shut up.” 

Donna runs her hand down the side of Jody’s face, gently pulling her down until their lips meet again. She drops the book into her pile and sits up a little, pressing closer as Jody’s lips part for her. Donna kicks her presents to the floor as she turns to straddle Jody, wrapping her legs around her waist. 

“You’re a trouble maker,” Jody murmurs against her lips. 

“Oh yeah,” Donna grins, “for sure.” 

It’s midday when Donna hears the knock on the door. She’s in the middle of making paninis and looks over at Jody. 

“I’ll get it,” Jody says. 

“Thanks, darlin’!” Donna calls after her. 

“You got a secret admirer?” Jody jokes when she comes back holding a flower box. 

“Huh?” 

Jody opens the box on the kitchen table and pulls out the pretty flower arrangement. It’s not very Christmassy with yellow roses and daisies, but it’s pretty. Donna plates the panini for Jody and hand it to her as she looks in the box for a note. 

“Happy Xmas, D-Train. Dean,” Donna reads from the note. What a sap. She loves it. 

Dean bobs his head to the music and hums along as he polishes another glass. The storm outside is raging, rain pouring down as the wind howls. It should be over tomorrow. The clouds will part and the sun will shine. 

“This weather!” Donna says incredulously as she opens the door and steps inside, shaking out her umbrella. “Not even playin’ around. Roads are terrible!” She shrugs off her coat and leaves it with the umbrella by the door. “Limes!” she says proudly, dropping the bag on the counter. 

“Couldn’t make the house special without the limes.” Dean takes the bag from the counter. “What are we, savages?” 

“Well, our special  _ is _ a tequila shot and a beer,” Donna laughs as Dean chops a lime for their tequila shots. 

“Best damn house special ever.” Dean slides her a shot. 

“Cheers.” Donna tosses her shot back and bites her lime. Dean does the same and laughs when he sees her face. “Whoo!” He passes her a beer and takes a sip of his own. “Heard from Cas?”

“Still working that ghoul case in Wichita with Sam. They should be back tonight.” He misses him. Part of him wishes he had gone with them. He hasn’t hunted since he retired though, and he retired for Cas. One near-death experience that was too close a call had ended with Dean in the hospital promising his husband that he would stop. He’d bought the bar with Donna shortly after. Every hunt that Cas goes on, Dean is split. He wants to go too, hunting alongside his angel and his brother. He wants Cas to stay here with him so they can break every health code violation on the bar, behind the bar, in the back room, in the office, on a table, on the dancefloor. He also wants it to be just how it is with Cas looking out for Sammy when he can’t while he runs a bar with his best friend. 

A woman in a pencil-skirt kind of a suit comes in with her briefcase over her head. Dean is tired of seeing from her. She has been coming around recently to ask him to sell the bar. Dean sighs as she wipes her feet on the mat. 

“Wet one out there, eh?” Donna asks, leaning on the counter. She’s grown tired of this routine too. 

“Yes,” she answers, still catching her breath. 

“What can we help you with, Karen?” Donna asks though Dean knows that they both know exactly what she wants. 

“Mr. Winchester, Mrs. Hanscum, I brought those papers we talked about even though you said you weren’t interested. With just a few signatures, you could—” 

“Can I get you a drink?” Dean asks calmly.

“I’m in a bit of a rush,” she says, smile tight. 

“Well, sorry you wasted your trip out here, but, um… Rocky’s still isn’t for sale.” He nods to Donna and she nods in agreement before they both look back to Karen, the poacher. 

“Rocky’s…” Karen clears her throat as she looks around the empty room. There’s one sleeping customer at the end of the bar. “...looks pretty dead,” she finishes with a pinched look of distaste. 

She sees the slow night that it is with the rain coming down in buckets outside. She doesn’t see what Dean sees. She doesn’t see the hunters that come through for a good beer and a rest, sharing the tales of their latest hunt as they clink glasses and listen to Donna sing. 

“And it’s a very generous offer.”

Donna scoffs and looks at Dean with a face that says  _ can you believe this? _

“Well, all the same.” Dean shrugs one shoulder. “This bar? I’ve never had anything this nice. So that sale that you want so bad? Well, it’s just not gonna happen.” 

“Mrs. Hanscum agrees?” Karen asks, her lips pinched into a sour look. 

“You betcha!” Donna says, raising her glass. 

Karen shuffles her papers and slams them into her briefcase. “Good evening,” she says in a way that tells both of them she hopes their evening is anything but good. Dean smiles, clinking his glass with Donna’s as they watch her go. 

Dean sits in his office, working on the books when Donna walks in with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. She waves the bottle at him with a grin. 

“You just gonna leave the drunk guy out there with all the booze?” he asks.

“He’s dead asleep,” Donna answers, waving him off as she sits down. 

“Is he dead or is he asleep?” 

“Probably asleep,” Donna laughs. “Do a shot with me. I’m headin’ out for a hot date.” 

“Jody’s back from the werewolf hunt with Claire?” Dean asks as he moves his paperwork to the side, allowing room for shots to be had. 

“Yup! We both get our loves back tonight.” Donna pours their shots and they throw them back together. 

“Alright. Back to work with me and out the door with you,” Dean says, standing. They leave the office and Dean goes into the walk-in fridge to grab a fresh case of beer when he hears Donna.

“Dean? Wanna come out here?” 

“What’s up?” he asks, grabbing the box and bringing it with him into the main bar. 

“We’ve got company,” she says, nodding toward the door. 

“Dean Winchester?” their guest snarls.  
“Yeah?” 

“I gotta score to settle with you. You and your brother killed my entire nest back in Sudler.” The vampire bares his fangs as he lowers his hood. Vampires are Donna’s favorite to fight. He knows this is going to be a good one.

“Is that right?” 

The drunk guy at the bar suddenly lunges, making it quite clear that he was neither dead nor sleeping. Dean grabs him and slams him into the floor, kicking him before he grabs two machetes and hands one to Donna. She grabs the hilt quickly as Dean moves his attention to the vampire at his feet that’s about to get up. He slices through their neck without a problem and looks up to find Donna ganking her own. The head rolls and she turns to beam at him. 

“Good thing your best friend is the best vamp killer around.” Donna wipes her blade before handing it back to him.

“Nice!” he nods as she does a small celebratory squeal. Donna has blood splattered on the side of her face and he’s sure that he does too. They high five and get back to work. “Fuck.” Dean holds up the bag of limes that had still been on the counter. 

“What’s up?” Donna asks, coming out of the bathroom as she scrubs the blood off of her cheek with a towel. “Fiddlesticks.”

“Bloody limes,” Dean says, dropping them into the trash. “You good to go grab some? Doesn’t look like we’ve got much business anyway.” 

“Sure. Be back soon.” She grabs the money he’s holding out and shrugs her coat on before grabbing her umbrella. “Let’s hope this rain lets up, eh?” 

“Be safe out there,” Dean calls after her as he grabs the vamp body to haul out back. 

Dean bobs his head to the music and hums along as he polishes another glass. He sets it down and picks up a rag again when he spots some blood on the bar. He sprays it with disinfectant and runs the cloth over, taking the spot of red with it. There’s a storm outside raging, rain pouring down as the wind howls. It should be over tomorrow. The clouds will part and the sun will shine. 

“This weather!” Donna says incredulously as she opens the door and steps inside, shaking out her umbrella. “Not even playin’ around. Roads are terrible!” She shrugs off her coat and leaves it with the umbrella by the door. “Limes!” she says proudly, dropping the bag on the counter. 

“Couldn’t make the house special without the limes.” Dean takes the bag from the counter. “What are we, savages?” 

“Well, our special  _ is _ a tequila shot and a beer,” Donna laughs as Dean chops a lime for their tequila shots. 

“Best damn house special ever. Want one?” Dean jokes, looking down the bar at the passed out patron. “More for us,” he laughs to Donna as he slides her a shot. 

“Cheers.” Donna tosses her shot back and bites her lime as Dean does the same. He can’t help but laugh when he sees her face. “Whoo!” He passes her a beer and takes a sip of his own. “Heard from Cas?”

“Still working that ghoul case in Wichita with Sam. They should be back tonight.” 

Dean dances behind the bar as he polishes glasses, singing along with Metallica quietly as he works. He spots some blood on the bar and sprays it before rubbing it off with a rag. Rain slams against the windows but he ignores it. The rain will pour and the wind will thrash, but it should settle by the time his shift is over. 

Donna comes in, shutting the door quickly behind her as she shakes the water off. “This weather!” Not even playin’ around. Roads are terrible!” She drops the umbrella into the designated bucket and hangs up her coat on a peg by the door before holding up a bag of limes and announcing them as she plops them onto the bar in front of Dean. “Limes!” 

“Couldn’t make the house special without the limes.” Dean takes a lime from the bag and sets it on the cutting board. “What are we, savages?” 

Donna laughs and half-shrugs. “Well, our special  _ is _ a tequila shot and a beer.” 

“Best damn house special ever. Want one?” Dean jokes, looking down the bar at the passed out patron. “More for us.” 

“Cheers.” Donna tosses her shot back and bites her lime at the same time as Dean. He laughs as she lets out a celebratory whoop. They both grab their beers, clinking glasses before taking sips. “Heard from Cas?”

“Still working that ghoul case in Wichita with Sam. They should be back tonight.” 

Dean looks up from his work when Donna enters the small office. She’s holding a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

“You just gonna leave the drunk guy out there with all the booze?” 

“He’s dead asleep,” Donna answers, waving him off as she sits down. She pours their shots as he moves his paperwork to the side. 

“Is he dead or is he asleep?” he asks with a wink. 

“Probably asleep,” Donna laughs. “Do a shot with me. I’m headin’ out for a hot date.” 

“Jody’s back from the werewolf hunt with Claire?” Dean asks.

“Yup! We both get our loves back tonight.” They toss back their shots together and slam the empty glasses back onto the desk, laughing. 

“One more for good luck,” Dean insists.

“Why do we need luck?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. They take their second shot together.

Dean’s paperwork is blurring in front of his face. He must be tired. Or drunk. He rubs his eyes and looks up. Donna walks in with tequila and two glasses. 

“You just gonna leave the drunk guy out there with all the booze?” 

“He’s dead asleep,” Donna answers, waving him off as she sits down. She pours their shots as he moves his undone paperwork to the side. 

“Is he dead or is he asleep?” he asks with a wink. 

“Probably asleep.” Donna shrugs. “Shots!” She pours their shots and they take them at the same time. 

“One more, one more,” Dean says. She pours them two more. “Cheers!” They clink their overfilled shots, tequila raining down on the desk as they erupt with drunken giggles before downing what they have. 

“Whoo!” 

“Whoo!” Dean agrees. He grabs his phone. It buzzes in his ear as he orders, “More shots!” 

“Dean Winchester?” a hooded guy asks in a growl or a sneer or whatever you wanna call it.  
  
“Yeah?” Dean answers though he’d really rather just tell the ass to take a hike so he can do his job and close up for the night. 

“I gotta score to settle with you. You and your brother killed my entire nest back in Sudler.” The vampire bares his fangs as he lowers his hood. Donna grins and gives him a look. She started with killing vampires. They’re her favorite. 

“Is that right?” 

The drunk guy at the bar suddenly lunges at Dean, his own fangs bared. He should have stayed “knocked out” and drunk. Dean grabs him and slams him into the floor, kicking him before he grabs two machetes and hands one to Donna. She grabs the hilt quickly as Dean moves his attention to the vampire at his feet that’s about to get up. He slices through their neck without a problem and looks up to find Donna ganking her own. The head rolls and she turns to beam at him, blood splattered over part of her neck and face. 

“Good thing your best friend is the best vamp killer around,” she says, flipping her hair with mock arrogance before giggling. 

“Nice!” He high fives her and takes her machete back, wiping it on a dirty cloth and stowing it behind the bar again. They head to the bathroom to wipe the blood off their faces, Dean standing behind her as he wipes at his neck with a towel. 

“Am I good?” he asks when he thinks he has all the blood off. She licks her thumb and wipes a stray spot from his cheek. “Wow. Thanks, mom,” he says, wiping his face with his fist while sporting a clearly disgusted face. 

“You’re welcome,” Donna calls after him as he goes back out to the main bar to haul the two bodies and their matching heads out back. They clean up the blood and Donna goes into the back while Dean finishes fixing up the bar after the fight. 

He turns around and sees Sam and Cas. “Hey! There they are!” A sight for sore eyes. “Kill a ghoul, get a beer,” he says excitedly, throwing down some coasters for them before grabbing two glasses. 

“Dean?” Dean ignores his brother’s worried look and starts pouring him a cold one from the tap. 

“Got this great IPA from Austin, Cosmic Cowboy.” He grins as he serves it. “You’re gonna love it.” 

“Hey, Dean… What’s goin’ on here?” Sam asks slowly. He looks like he’s never seen the inside of Dean’s bar or any bar for that matter. He’s looking around the room like it’s all new to him when he was here just before his last hunt. 

“What’re you talkin’ about?” 

“Cas! Sam!” Donna greets excitedly as she comes back out from the back office. “Glad you’re back safe!” She pulls them both into one hug, Cas’ head over one shoulder and Sam’s over the other. 

“Donna?” 

Cas whispers something to Sam as Donna leaves them to unpack the case of beer Dean left at the end of the bar. 

“What’re you guys waiting for? Drink up,” Dean says, patting the bar between their freshly poured drinks. 

“None of this is real,” Sam says. Worry spills into Dean’s system from a reservoir he’d boarded up a long time ago. He sounds like he did when hallucinations of Lucifer were tearing him apart. “Th-this. This bar. Donna.” 

“Whoa!” Donna holds up a hand. “Stuff you, Sam. I’m as real as a donut.” 

“A donut? Really? That’s the best you could do?” Dean asks. She looks up at him and shrugs, a smile slipping across her features. She can’t help it. He laughs and shoves her in the arm gently. 

“You’re just a complex manifestation of Dean’s memories designed to distract him,” Cas interjects. Dean looks at him and furrows his brow. It’s one thing if Sam is talking nonsense, but Cas? 

“Okay, listen to me. You have to remember what’s going on out in the real world,” Sam pleads. The real world? Dean looks between them as he scoffs. 

“I know it’s raining,” he says, glancing over at the windows. “What else do I need to know?” 

“No. I’m not talking about the rain! I’m talking about Michael!” 

“Shots!” Donna announces, pouring their shots. They drink them at the same time and slam their glasses to the table.

“One more, one more,” Dean says. She pours them two more. “Cheers!” They clink their overfilled shots, tequila raining down on the desk as they erupt with drunken giggles before downing what they have. 

“Whoo!” 

“Whoo!” Dean agrees. He grabs his phone. It buzzes in his ear as he orders, “More shots!” 

Dean looks up from the next glass he’s polishing. Donna is sitting at the bar, looking at Cas and Sam expectantly. He glances up too. “So you guys gonna tell us about the hunt or what?” Dean asks.

Sam shares a confused look with Cas. “Okay. W-what? You were just..?” he stammers. “What the hell is going on here?” 

“Okay, alright.” Dean puts the glass down. If it weren’t for Cas’ shared confusion, Dean would be sure that Sam’s head broke again. “Now you’re starting to worry me.”  _ Keep Sammy safe.  _ “What  _ is  _ goin’ on?”

Donna grabs the machete from Dean before he takes off the head of his own vamp behind the bar. Blood splatters up from the severed neck. He looks up and sees Donna handling her own, the vamp’s head rolling. 

“Good thing your best friend is the best vamp killer around,” she says, flipping her hair with mock arrogance before giggling. 

“Nice!” He high fives her—

“You guys got really messy on that ghoul hunt, huh?” Donna asks. Dean shakes his head and clucks his tongue. They should know to clean up better at this point. Sam and Cas both have blood splattered across their faces. 

“No, we didn’t get messy on a hunt,” Cas says irritably. “We got messy just now, in this bar in the vampire fight.” 

“Maybe we should rethink the beers,” Donna suggests and Dean wholeheartedly agrees, sliding them away from Sam and Cas though neither of them have made a move toward the bar still. 

“Yeah.”

“Okay, Dean… Listen to me,” Sam says, walking closer. “I think you’re… You’re stuck in a loop in your mind.” Dean looks to Cas, silently asking him if this prank was Sam’s idea or his but Cas only looks worried. “Michael is possessing you! You have to remember that!”

“Michael?”

“Yes!” 

“Michael’s in the cage,” Dean shrugs. He’s been there since Sam as Lucifer jumped in with Adam as Michael. Sam and Lucifer both made their way out ages ago but Adam and Michael haven’t made it out. “Come on guys. What is this? Some kind of joke?”

“No, Dean. It’s not a joke,” Cas says firmly. 

“Listen to me. This isn’t real,” Sam insists again. “This bar isn’t real. Donna isn’t real. She’s wearing a wedding ring but Donna’s not married. Not anymore. Not yet.” 

Dean looks at Donna and she holds up her left hand to show Sam how wrong he is, but the ring is suddenly gone. She wiggles her fingers and shrugs. 

“Jody and I are still pretty new. Of course we aren’t married yet.” She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“Sam, don’t!” Cas whispers harshly, forcing Dean’s eyes back to Sam and Cas. “Sam, no!” 

“Dean,  _ you’re _ not married.” 

Dean’s heart shatters in his chest as the lights go out. The rain and the music stop at the same time, the bar suddenly silent, muted. The ring on his left hand disappears and he can feel that Donna is no longer beside him. He looks down at his hands, clenching his jaw as his fingers curl into his palms. 

“Dean…” Cas says gently. Dean can’t look at him. He feels like throwing up. 

“No. No. No, no, no.” Dean shakes his head but he can’t look back up at Cas with his big blue eyes, the husband he just lost. He can’t. “No.”

“It’s just a dream, Dean…” Cas says, taking his hand. Dean flinches and then grips hard, refusing to let his hand slip away. “Please, sweetie. You have to… You have to try to remember. Because the people in your life… your real life… out there… we need you to come back.” 

“Cas…” Dean shakes his head even though he’s holding his hand as hard as he possibly can. 

“Poughkeepsie,” Sam says suddenly. It’s jarring and somehow the word physically hurts. Dean lifts his head to look at Sam. 

“What’d you say?” he whispers, both of his hands in Cas’ as he stares at Sam. 

“Poughkeepsie,” Sam says again, louder. 

Memories flood him. The apocalypse world. Losing Cas. Saying yes. Drowning as Michael created monsters to murder the Earth. Michael killing innocents just because he could. Michael wearing his face and a stupid suit, his hand around the throat of disobedient werewolves, people, monsters, old, young, men, and women.

“I remember.” Dean looks at his boyfriend, his eyes relieved. Cas lifts their hands that are still clasped together and presses kisses into Dean’s skin. “I remember everything.” 

Slow clapping interrupts the moment and everyone looks to see Michael with Dean’s face, a dumb hat, and stupid clothes. “Hey, fellas.”

Dean’s stomach drops. Fuck. 


	25. Chapter 25

Dean wakes up at a table in the Bunker across from Sam and Cas. His head hurts, Michael pounding and screaming to be let out. Dean pulls at the wires that are connected to him and realizes that he’s once again in the dumbass clothes that Michael wears. His hair isn’t right. He was bested. 

Cas gets up and immediately goes to Dean, helping him up and saying something to Jack. Dean lets himself get half carried away from the library, leaning into Cas as he tries to blink away Michael’s shouting. 

“I got it,” he says when they make it to the bathroom. “Grab me my own clothes?” he asks as he turns on the shower. Cas nods and leaves Dean alone. 

It should be quiet. It should be nothing but the sound of the water running. Dean clenches his jaw and grips the edge of the sink as he stares at himself in the mirror. 

“It’s just you,” he whispers. “It’s only you.” 

He sheds the Michael skin: the too stuffy, too fancy, too  _ not him _ clothes. He turns the temperature of the water on too high like he used to do when the Mark was the one shouting at him from within. This time, the shouting is everywhere. It’s in his head, shaking his bones, curdling his blood. He forces himself to breathe, his hands braced against the wall, his head hanging down as the scalding water cascades over him. 

_ “Dean,  _ you’re _ not married.” _ Dean curls his hands into fists even though he can’t see that the ring he’d worn in his dreams isn’t there. He feels betrayed and exposed by his own mind. 

“Your clothes,” Cas’ voice says. Dean opens his eyes and looks through the glass door. He straightens himself and puts his hand on the glass. Cas lines his hand up with Dean’s on the other side, their palms lined up. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean exhales. He can breathe with his angel around. He draws Cas’ name in Enochian and watches Cas draw Dean’s name on the other side.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas answers gently. His hand falls away from the glass and Dean watches him leave the bathroom. 

He washes the gel out of his hair and scrubs the slimy feeling of possession off of his skin before turning off the shower and pulling on the pj’s that Cas had brought him. The pain in his head has him staggering a little on his way to his bedroom, but he puts a hand to the wall to brace himself and is glad that no one is there to look at him with worry and pity. He can do this. He is the cage. 

When he opens the door to his room, Cas is waiting, sitting on his side of the bed patiently. Dean sits down next to him and rests his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder as their hands twine together. 

“Can this be over now? Can we go to Disneyland now?” Dean asks quietly. “Happiest place on Earth, right?”

“About that,” Cas says, cleaning his throat. “I need to talk to you.” 

“A guy’s favorite sentence,” Dean sighs, lifting his head. “How bad is it?” How much more bad can he really take? 

“Good for some… Bad for me.” Cas’ blue eyes are filled with regret and Dean’s stomach does a flip and it’s not the good kind. 

“Spit it out. Not like my day can get any worse.” 

“I had to make a deal with the Empty to bring Jack back.” 

Dean can hear his own heartbeat mixing with Michael’s screaming. “What the hell kind of a deal, Cas? Why didn’t you tell me when you did it? Why did you make it? Cas, no. What the fuck?” 

“I had to make it to bring Jack back. It was the only way, Dean.” His hand tighten’s on Dean’s. “The Empty can claim me…”

“No!”

“But only when I am truly happy.” 

Dean lets go of Cas’ hand faster than he thought humanly possible and scrambles away from him. Between the news and the nauseating pain in his head, the room is tilting. “No. Cas.” His voice is breaking with his heart. 

“Dean, I did it for Jack. I did it for you.”

“Don’t you say that shit to me!” Dean yells. “Haven’t we gone through enough? I know I don’t deserve to be happy! I know I don’t deserve you! But why would you do this to me? To us?” 

“I love you, Dean. I love you and I made a promise to do anything I could to bring Jack back. I also made a promise to his dead mother to protect him. I’m trying to do right by her and you, but the Empty—”

“Fuck the Empty!” Dean wipes a hand down his face. He wants to say he loves him too. He wants to hug him and cry into him. He wants to kiss him and hold him tight. He wants to be fucked by him. But now he can’t even hold his hand without fear ripping through him. He can’t lose him. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says. He stands up and moves toward the door. 

“You know how I feel and you haven’t disappeared yet,” Dean says quietly. 

“I don’t know the criteria for my death, I just know it’s on the table,” Cas answers. “Do you want some time alone?” 

“Yeah.”  _ No. Please stay and tell me it’s all a sick joke.  _ Cas walks back to Dean and kisses the top of his head gently before leaving Dean alone in his room. His heart aches. His head pounds. His everything hurts. 

Dean goes to his sink and splashes water on his face. He glances up into his reflection. He looks like the mess he feels he is. “It’s all you,” he promises himself out loud. He can do this. He can contain Michael. He can hunt down the Empty and manage to kill it before it takes his last bit of happiness from him. He can save the world. He can save Cas. He can save himself. It’s all on his shoulders. He’s alone, but he can do it. 

“Dean.” He knows that voice. Billie. He turns around and Death herself is standing before him. “So… Not all good news…” Dean only clenches his jaw. He wonders how long she’s been here, unheard and unseen, just listening to the amount of bad news that’s been piled onto him. He wonders if she cares and why the fuck she’s here. Why now? “I did say I would see you again soon.”

“You could’a knocked,” Dean snaps. 

“Figured all that banging on the door in your head was enough.” He hates working with all-knowing entities. 

“Michael’s all locked up,” he says even though he doesn’t believe it. He needs to believe it, but part of him already feels the door breaking under the pressure. He feels his bones cracking, his muscles tensing, his skull breaking.

“Seems that way.” Her eyes never waver from his face even when he takes a few steps just to move. “Do you remember visiting my reading room?The shelves and shelves of notebooks describing the ways you might die?” When Cas was gone and Dean killed himself for three minutes. When he strolled along the bookshelves of black books to meet Death and find out why he wasn’t allowed to die yet, no matter how badly he wanted to. Yeah, he remembers. 

“Yeah. Upbeat classics.” 

“Well, it’s the funniest thing, but they’ve all been rewritten. They all end the same way now. With the archangel Michael escaping your mind and using you as his vessel to burn down this world.”

His stomach drops. He wonders how much more bad news he can take before the entire world just gets pulled out from under him like a rug. “All of them?”

“All of them. Except one.” She hands him one book, a ribbon telling him where to open it. He swallows hard as he takes it from her. It’s small, a thin novel, but it’s heavy. He opens it and looks down at the prophecy of him climbing into an archangel-proof coffin that plummets into the ocean. His heart sinks as he looks back up at Billie. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“That’s up to you,” she says before she vanishes. 

He clutches the book tighter and locks his door before going to his bed and flipping through the pages until he lands on a chunk that describes how to build the Ma’lak Box. If he goes through with it, he will be trapped with Michael inside of a coffin at the bottom of the ocean for the rest of eternity. The world would be safe. If he does this, Cas loses his boyfriend and gets to live unless his true happiness has nothing to do with Dean. If Dean does this, he’s killing himself for the better of Cas and the world. He has to do this. 

Dean spends all night reading his book. He doesn’t bother sleeping. There’s no point. He reads and rereads what to do and how to do it until his alarm goes off telling him that it’s time to get up and get ready for a day he has no intention of participating in. He hides the book in his pillowcase and forces himself to get up.

He takes another shower that can’t possibly get hot enough to burn away how imperfect he feels after everything that’s happened. There’s not enough soap in the world to make hin feel clean again. His skin is red but he just covers it up with a flannel. He’s fine. He can do this. He has to do this.   
  
  


“Hey,” he says as he walks into the library to find Sam surrounded by books. 

“Hey,” his brother answers. “How you feelin’?” 

“What’cha readin’?” Dean asks instead of answering. 

“Uh, going back through the Book of Jubilees. You know, the way they classify angels is… is… It’s really interesting.”

“Find anything on Michael?” Maybe if they find something, anything, then Dean won’t have to kill himself with a deep dive in the Pacific. 

“Not yet, but I… but I just… started.” He’s not going to find anything. There’s nothing to be done. Either Michael takes over again, which Dean can’t let happen, or Dean builds the Ma’lak Box. “We’ll find a way,” Sam says. Dean nods silently. He has a way already. 

“Man, I…” He what? He’s close to telling Sam to give up looking, but the only other being that understands is Billie. “I appreciate it… You know. You… trying.” 

“Well, yeah. Of course. I mean, always.” Sam offers a small smile that does nothing to hide the worry. “You wanna hop in? Help out? I got plenty to go through.”

“Actually, no.” Dean shakes his head slowly and bites his lip. “I, uh… I didn’t really sleep with everything that just happened. Seein’ double.” 

“You good?” Fuck. He should have kept his mouth shut. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just uh…” He sighs. “I think I’m gonna call Cas and try to get a little more sleep.” Sam nods and Dean taps the back the chair he’s standing next to before he turns around and walks back out of the library. 

He goes to his room with every intention of not calling Cas. Not calling anyone. He crawls into his bed again and takes out his phone and there’s a text from Cas though. How could he not call him? 

“Dean.”

“I’m still not happy,” Dean says quietly, “but I miss you and I’d rather not be happy together.” 

“I’ll be there to not be happy with you,” Cas promises. 

When Cas does show up, he taps on the door twice before stepping inside. Dean hasn’t moved. Cas doesn’t say anything, just slides into his spot beside Dean and under the blankets, his shoes left by the dresser where he draped his coat. Dean rests his head on Cas’ chest and doesn’t say a word. In return, Cas stays quiet and runs his hand through Dean’s short hair soothingly. 

Nothing is more clear to Dean right now than how much he loves this angel. This angel who is never allowed to feel optimal happiness. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be happy. Without Dean, he can be happy being a good father to Jack. He can find happiness with shared beers and in Dean’s absence, he might even find himself laughing as he drives the Impala. He can be happy. He just can’t be elated, his heart bursting with the joy that Dean had wanted to share with him someday. Without Dean, Cas can live and find some happiness. Without Dean, he’ll be safe. 

Over the next month, Dean slowly stockpiles the items he’ll need to build his box. He hides it all in a duffle bag in the bottom drawer of his dresser. He reads the book constantly, willing it to change but it never does. If anything, the instructions of how to build his own coffin seem to become bolder, harder to miss. 

The day that Dean chooses is the end is a day that Cas is out with Jack. Sam still has his nose in a book. Donna is working in Stillwater. It’s his fortieth birthday. Everyone is living their lives. Except Dean. Dean is saying goodbye. 

It’s all set up. He’d called his mom asking if he could come visit her up at Donna’s cabin because that’s what his book told him to do. She’d told him that was fine like he knew that she would. He walked out to the library where his brother was still poring over books, searching for an answer that only exists in a black book hand-delivered by Death herself. 

“How ya feeling?” Sam asks like he has every single day for the past few weeks. 

“I think I’m gonna go for a drive, ya know?” he says, nodding a little. “Just me and Baby… Long stretch of road. And I figured I’d make it a twofer… I’d go see Mom at, uh, Donna’s cabin.” 

“Yeah,” Sam nods. He looks relieved for a moment. “Yeah, that sounds great. Be good to see ‘em. Just let me find a stopping point and get packed up.”

“Uh, actually…” Dean flounders. He’d gotten too used to Sam letting him go off on his own to visit Donna or out on dates with Cas. He can’t let Sam come. This is goodbye. “I was, uh… Was kinda hoping for some one-on-one time with Mom, if that’s cool.”

“Yeah… Sure, yeah.” He manages a smile that refuses to reach his eyes. It’s more of a worried grimace and it hurts. “Whatever you need.”

“Okay.” He’s glad that Sam doesn’t tell him not to go or ask him to stay. Dean walks around the table and wraps his arms around Sam’s shoulders, resting his chin on the top of his head like he hasn’t done since they were children and Sam was still miles shorter than him. 

He remembers all of those hugs. The hugs he gave to Sam when he cried because he’d woken up from a nightmare. The ones they’d shared when they were both hungry but had neither food nor money. The hugs Sam would force on him after fights with John, before Sam knew about the abuse. The excited hugs Sam would fling upon him when Dean was picked up from whatever street corner of home for juvenile delinquents he’d been left at. Hugs Sam doesn’t remember because Dean had been the one to wake up from a nightmare and had hugged his sleeping brother for comfort. Hugs that told each other they weren’t alone. 

Now, Dean is alone. 

“Take care, Sammy,” he whispers, his voice rough. It’s all he can say without actually crying. He walks away and refuses to look over his shoulder. 

Dean walks straight to his car and starts driving. He has everything he needs, the duffle bags in the backseat. The second the wheels leave his home property, one tear slips down his cheek and he quickly wipes it away. 

The pounding in his head is getting worse. As he drives, he continually has to pull over to the side of the road as Michael slams against the door in his mind. His jaw clenched and eyes shut tight, Dean silently tells himself that he is alone. He is the cage. He can do this. He has to do this. Then he pulls back out onto the road and keeps driving. 

One of the times he pulls over, Dean calls Donna. 

“Hiya, Dean!” Donna answers brightly. 

“Hey. I’m going to be passing through and was wondering if you wanted to meet for lunch?” 

“Oh, yeah! You betcha! Whereabouts you headed?” 

“Just goin’ up to see Mom at your cabin,” he says. 

“My lunch break is at one. I’ll text you the address of the actual best burger. You better be ready for this.” He’d forgotten about the best burger competition and it’s a spot of dim light in a dark room. It’ll go out soon, but for now, it’s something to look forward to. 

“I’ll be there. See you soon.” 

When he hangs up he ignores the text from Cas and drives. 

He can’t say goodbye to Cas. He can’t even pretend that he’s not saying goodbye. He knows that if he hears that voice, if he sees those eyes, he won’t be able to go through with it. He’ll cave and Michael will win. Michael continues to wreak havoc in Dean’s mind, and that’s where he has to stay until this coffin is built. He just won’t get to say goodbye. In person anyway. He plans on saying goodbye in a prayer once he’s crashed into the ocean and he’s far from being able to back out. 

Dean pulls into the lot alongside a burger shack a few minutes early. If he hadn’t had to stop so often because of Michael, he would have been here ages ago. He pulls out his phone and opens the gallery. He knows it’s a mistake that will make his heart ache, but he misses him. Dean scrolls through the pictures, his heart sinking with each one. The love of his life. The person he wants to talk to the most. 

He sees Donna’s cop car out of the cover of his eye and wipes a hand over his wet face, ridding the evidence of his crying before shoving his phone in his pocket and getting out of the car. 

He can do this.

He has to do this. 


	26. Chapter 26

Donna walks over to where Dean is standing beside his car. He looks tired, like he’s been driving for a month rather than a few hours. His smile doesn’t quite reach those shining green eyes. 

“Hiya,” Donna greets. 

“Hey, Donna,” he says as he gives her a brief hug. “So, best burgers, huh?” 

“You betcha!” She leads him over to the counter to order before they step to the side and wait for their number to be called. “How’s the drive?” 

“Feels good.” He takes a deep breath, squinting as he looks up at the clear sky. It’s cold enough that she can see his breath on the exhale, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets and every line of his face looks worn with worry and pain. There’s something sad about the way he looks. Something’s off. “How’s work?” Dean asks, nodding to her uniform and slicing through her silent observations. 

“Nothin’ excitin’ yet.” The most exciting news she ever gets is through her phone when Sam or Dean calls her to tell her about the next wave of monsters to look out for. Their number is called and they grab their burgers and sodas before walking to a table set up on the grass. 

It’s hard not to look at him and worry. Sam had told her all about the fight with Michael. He has an archangel locked away in his noggin and the only way she can tell is by how beaten down he actually looks. Over the years, she’s seen him at some pretty low lows and not known the difference. He was able to hide it with a smile. 

“Mm! Oh my gawd,” he says around his first bite. 

“What? You thought I was jokin’?” Dean takes another bite instead of answering, nodding at the flavor. “Best burger in Minnesota!” 

“Best burger ever!” he corrects, his mouth still full. 

“Glad it satisfies.” 

“So good.” With the food, he sounds happier, but she’s still not convinced. 

They both make quick work of their burgers, wiping the remnants from their mouths with napkins and satisfied hums. She watches as he immediately moves onto the steak fries in his basket. She’s used to the Dean who talks to her. The one who spills his secrets and plays games. Worry eats at her as she watches him avoid her eyes, too busy inspecting his fries and soda cup. 

“So,” she tries. He doesn’t seem to hear her. He doesn’t look like he’s trying to ignore her either. Maybe he’s lost in thought. Maybe he’s being crushed under his own stress. “Dean,” she says after a moment. He finally drags his eyes up to hers. 

“Have you seen Jody lately? The girls?” Deflection. She sighs inwardly.

“Oh yeah.” She nods. “You know. I split my time as much as I can. Take our dates where we can get ‘em. Help Jody with their trainin’. Last month we took down a vetala nest.”

“Mm!” It’s too much of a show of excitement for it to be real. He still seems distracted and distant even as he cheers on her victories. 

“Alex, little miss  _ I don’t wanna hunt _ ? She killed two all by herself.” Patience is still getting the hang of her powers and Claire is off on her own, hunting as often as she can to numb the pain of her lost first love. And Dean? Dean looks like he’s putting on a show as he eats his french fries and tries to look impressed. If only she didn’t know him so well. 

“Get out of town. Good for her.” 

“Anyhoo,” Donna says seriously. 

“So what about you?” Dean cuts her off. “How’s Sheriffing going?” Like he didn’t just ask her how work was ten minutes ago. 

She sighs and clasps her hands together. “Same as it was ten minutes ago. Any more questions?”

“Huh?”

“Just wonderin’ if you’ve run out of ways to ask me how I’m doin’ so as to avoid me repayin’ the favor.” She watches as his fake smile falls away and lets her words hang between them for a moment as his eyes drop to the table. “I know you were possessed. Again.” He looks back up at that but there’s no reaction beyond that. No spark of anger or annoyance. So sadness or despair. Not even denial. “Sam,” she says, revealing who informed her. He lets out a humorless laugh and plops his used napkin into his empty basket. “And Cas.” 

His mouth closes and she watches his jaw tense. His eyes drop to the table immediately. She struck a cord. Dean stays silent, letting her continue with her thread of accusations. 

“I know you got an archangel up there, hitchin’ a ride in your noggin.” When he looks up again, his eyebrows drawn together in a silent question, she answers, “Also Sam.” If he were okay, he’d be talking. He wouldn’t be asking silently. He wouldn’t be communicating everything through his eyes and slumped shoulders. 

“What? Has he got a fuckin’ newsletter?” he asks, speaking for the first time in what feels like ages though it’s only been a few minutes. 

“Just sayin’, all that… Can’t be easy, ya know?” It feels like walking on a layer of ice over a frozen lake. The soft crackling of the ice is Dean’s avoidant eyes. The spiderwebbing cracks is the loneliness in his frown. 

“Well. I’ll make it through. Kay?” Dean drinks the rest of his soda and puts it down too hard on the table which doesn’t do much as it’s a paper cup. “It’s all we can do, right?”

“Right.”

“Couldn’t come through town without seein’ my D-Train!” he says, suddenly all fake smiles again. “So, thanks for meeting me.” 

“Oh, yeah…” she sighs as they both get up from the table. 

“Come here,” he says, smile slipping. She steps into his arms and feels the tightest hug she’s ever gotten from him. He’s been there to hug her in all kinds of situations, including what she thought was the worst when he came to comfort her after an innocent kid died. This hug speaks volumes but she still can’t hear what it’s saying. All she knows is she has a pit in her stomach the size of Jupiter. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks into his shoulder. 

He’s quiet for a moment before he lets go of her and takes a small step away. He smiles sadly and wipes a hand over his mouth. “Today’s my birthday.” He nods to himself and clears their table as she stands still, watching him with a mix of confusion and worry. 

“Dean?” He walks back to her from the trashcan. “Happy Birthday.” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “Bye, Donna.” 

Dean gets back in his car as she stands by their empty table. She watches him drive away before she pulls out her phone and calls Sam. 

“Hey, Donna,” he answers on the second ring. 

“Just saw Dean.” She walks back to her cop car and sighs. “Somethin’s off.” 

“I know. What happened?” 

“It’s more a feelin’, ya know?” She shakes her head even though he can’t see. “Is it really his birthday?” 

“Uh… Wow. I guess. Yeah. We don’t really celebrate that around here. He doesn’t really like to.” She can hear Sam walking around. It’s probably that aimless walk around that people do when they don’t know what else to do while they’re on the phone. Or she’s interrupting. 

“Are he and Cas okay?” Donna bites her lip hoping that Cas has nothing to do with this ship-sinking feeling. 

“Yeah. I mean… I think so? I don’t think they’ve been fighting any more than the usual married couple bickering.” He laughs a little but it sounds dry. “Why?”

“I’ve never seen him this sad, Sam. I’m worried.” 

“Yeah. Me too.” He exhales slowly like he’s shoving all of the air out of his lungs to create a windstorm. “I’ll keep you updated. I don’t really know what’s goin’ on right now though. Thanks for calling though.” 

“Yeah. Take care, Sam.” 

They hang up and she puts her phone back in her pocket. Dean had said bye. The only other time he’d ever told her goodbye was over the phone following a “see ya later” or “talk to you later.” This one felt final. This one had chills running down her spine. 

“Sam comes back and he’s standing there soakin’ wet and he’s pulling bologna and sliced cheese out of his pants. So, being the big brother, I’m the cook. I take all that bologna, all that sliced cheese, and I put it on a hot plate,” Dean tells Mary over their clearly superior Winchester Surprise. 

“No!” She’s laughing and he tries to remember if he’s ever actually seen her laugh like this before. He’s seen her in all kinds of situations. He’s fought next to her. He’s saved her. Hell, he’s even been saved by her. But he can’t remember another time she’s laughed. Her eyes crinkle at the sides like his do.   
“Yeah.” 

“Ugh…”

“It stunk up that room so bad. Dad comes home and he’s so mad. He picks up everything, chucks it in the trash. Probably reminded him of you and…” And then he’d slapped Dean so hard he’d seen stars. He had the decency to look like he regretted it before he went to drown out his senses in a bottle of Jack Daniels. “Anyway. It did not taste right. Didn’t taste like this.” 

“Sometimes I forget just how much I missed while I was gone. And how much the two of you just…” She doesn’t know the half of it. She hadn’t wanted to hear it, taking his dad’s journal and running. She doesn’t know that Sam and Dean had met and hunted with her father. She doesn’t know that while John wrote down the good parts of watching his sons grow up, he left out that he was an angry drunk. Or that Sam had an imaginary friend to cope with his rocky childhood. She doesn’t know that the other version of her boyfriend, Bobby, had been the best father figure Dean could have asked for. She doesn’t know and now wasn’t the time to tell her. Now, he just wants to have a nice time here in the present while he can. 

“But you’re here now. Right?” She nods. “And even though the last couple’a years have been a little rough… Just knowin’ that you’re around, that you’re alive. Mom, that’s meant everything to me.” He’s getting dangerously close to actually saying goodbye, his mind drifting to the coffin he’s built in the workshop out back. “And everything to Sam. And how great is this? Hm? You and me sittin’ here eatin’ the real thing, not some bologna version of Winchester Surprise. You know? We’re not fightin’ any monsters. There’s— There—There’s no clouds on the horizon.” There can’t be any clouds on the horizon if the storm is already here. Michael screams in his head, his fists on the door is thunder crashing. He doesn’t want to die, which makes this even harder. He has to die to save Cas, his family, and the entire world. He doesn’t want to die. 

“Dean.”

“Mhm?”  
  
“Whatever you’re going through, you can talk to me,” Mary says gently.   
  
“Everybody keeps askin’ how I am. And how I am…” Sad, desperate. His heart is shattered, his will depleted. “...is I don’t wanna talk about it. Please.” He can’t talk to anyone about this. If he was going to talk to a single person about what he was going through, he would talk to Cas, but he can’t. Between Cas’ deal and Death’s book, Dean has to go through with it and talking to anyone, especially Cas, would make that impossible.

“Okay…” she says in a way that says it’s not okay at all. He nods and continues to eat. It’s an awkward silence, the mood dropping from a boisterous laughing one hundred down to a solemn, heavy zero with the snap. Mary clears her throat. “So, meet any cute ladies recently?” 

“I have a boyfriend,” Dean says as he looks up from his plate. How did she miss this news? He mentally prepares for the worst, remembering how his dad had handled finding out he liked more than just girls. 

“Oh! That’s wonderful!” she says with a cheery smile that’s a stark contrast to his father’s fist. “Who?”

“You’ve met Cas,” Dean says with a small smile. “We, uh. We started dating pretty soon after you came back actually.” Like. Immediately after. 

“I didn’t know angels could date.” She looks happy for him, her eyes bright and interested. 

“They’re not supposed to. But we decided to fuck the rules and be happy.” He almost chokes on his words and looks back down at his plate. Cas chose happiness and now Dean is going to take it away. “I love him,” Dean says softly, glancing up again and nodding seriously. 

“I’m happy for you.” And she means it. He smiles sadly and pushes the food around his plate. “Pie?” she offers, noticing he’s not really eating. 

“No, thanks.” He takes their empty plates and goes to the sink to wash them. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” He doesn’t look up from his task as he rubs the soap into one of the plates with a sponge. “Not hungry.” He lost his appetite. About a month ago when his world started splitting at the seams and he’d started preparing himself for the end of his book. “I’m actually pretty tired. Might just head to bed.” 

“If you’re sure…” He nods and feels her pat his shoulder. “Goodnight, Dean.” 

“Yeah. Night.” 

Donna blinks blearily, getting her bearings as she wakes up. She’s scared but at least she’s alone. The last thing she remembers is being tazed by the guy she’d pulled over, Nick. She must have hit her head on the pavement when she’d gone down. He and his van are gone. Her clothes are still on and she’s not cuffed or hurt in any other way. He’d left her lights on and thrown her in the back of her own patrol car before running. The only thing missing is her phone. 

She panics a little as she sits up and starts searching herself and the backseat of the cruiser before she gets out of the car and spots it thrown onto the front seat. When she unlocks it, it’s opened to her texts with Mary. Her hands are shaking as she dials Dean’s number. He’s the only one she can think of to call. Calling for backup from her station is out of the question. If someone is looking for Mary Winchester, it’s bigger than law enforcement. 

He doesn’t answer at first and her mind races back to the feeling that Dean had been saying goodbye. If she was ever to swear outside of truth or dare, she would right now. She closes her eyes and wonders who she’s supposed to pray to as she dials again. 

“Hey, Donna.” He sounds like he just woke up. “What’s up?”

“He got the drop on me,” she says quickly. She realizes she’s breathing faster than normal and forces herself to try to slow it so she doesn’t fully hyperventilate. “Dean, he’s goin’ after your mom.” 

“He who?” He’s already snapped out of his sleepiness, the protective Dean Winchester everyone knows and loves fully present. 

“Some guy named Nick.”

“Fuck! I fucking told him this shit would happen,” Dean mutters angrily. “Are you hurt? Where are you?” 

“I’m okay,” she promises. “Is your mom there?” 

“No.”

“I’m on my way. Don’t go anywhere.” 

“I won’t. Be safe.” He hangs up without another word. 

She radios back to her station and puts out an APB on Nick’s stolen van so they have a fighting chance of finding the sick guy who’s taken Mary. “If you find it, tell me immediately, you hear?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She starts her car and heads toward her family’s cabin. 

The fight is over. Nick is cuffed, shot, and packaged in the back of Donna’s car ready to be delivered straight to jail without passing Go. Sam is waiting in the Impala with Mary while Dean walks toward Donna. 

“Nice job,” he says, nodding toward her car. If she hadn’t taken her shot, someone else would have been hurt. He’d killed his demon and was ready to go after any of them if they got close enough. 

“It’s my fault.” She frowns with one corner of her mouth as she looks up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey. Stop it. You have nothing to be sorry for. We got him. Mom’s safe. You’re okay, right?” He pretends to check her over to make her give a half-hearted smile. “Everything’s fine.” 

“You’re not,” she says like she’s been thinking about it. Inside, Micheal pounds at the door. Outside, Dean doesn’t even wince. 

“I’m fine,” he lies. “Go back to work.” Donna wraps her arms around him tight before he can walk away and he hugs her back. 

“See you soon, Dean,” she says as they step away from each other. He can’t look at her. 

“Bye, Donna,” he answers, his eyes on the ground between their feet. He turns and goes back to the Impala. 

Sam is sitting shotgun, Mary is in the backseat, and Cas’ spot behind Dean’s seat is empty. Dean slides behind the wheel and watches Donna drive away before he turns the keys in the ignition. Mary had confronted him about the Ma’lak Box she’d found when he’d fallen asleep. No music plays and no one speaks as he turns onto the main road. 

“Is everything okay?” Sam asks.

“Nope,” Dean says simply. 

“Dean?” 

Dean shakes his head. “We’ll talk when we get back.” He doesn’t have to look to know that Sam’s eyebrows draw together with worry and his lips press into a concerned line as he accepts that he’s not going to get through right now. He doesn’t have to look into the rearview mirror to know Mary is watching him. He breathes in the silence from the car, wishing that it would quiet the screams in his skull.

“Can you give us a minute?” Sam asks Mary as they get out of the car at Donna’s cabin. Dean ignores it and when their mom doesn’t follow, he assumes she nodded headed into the main house. “Dean, I don’t know what’s going on—”

“If you would wait until I can open the door to show you…” Dean opens the door to the shed and feels his insides cool, a shiver running down his spine at the sight of his coffin. He clenches his jaw and walks toward his slowly as if it’s a creature that’ll spook and swallow him whole if he moves too quickly. 

“Dean, what is this?”

“It’s a Ma’lak Box.” He lifts the lid and closes it, demonstrating that it is, in fact, a box because he doesn’t know what to do and he can’t look at his baby brother with his puppy dog eyes. “Secured and warded. Once inside… nothing gets out. Not even an archangel. Especially an archangel.” 

“Y-yeah. I’ve read about these, but no one’s ever… They’re impossible to build.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean checks his workmanship, inspecting the welded edges that might’ve even made John Winchester proud. Doubtful, he decides. “Not so much.” 

“That’s your plan? You wanna be buried alive?” Dean finally looks up at him. Sam looks betrayed and hurt and it was a mistake to ever bring him in here. 

“Buried’s not safe enough.” He was buried dead once and woke up four months later. He’ll never forget that crawl, that gasp of fresh air when he thought he’d never make it to the surface. “Plan is: pay a little hush money, charter a boat to take me out to the Pacific, splash.” He’s drowned before. If water fills the coffin, the sensation of water in his lungs, throat, mouth, and nose won’t be new, especially if he’s locked away in the dark with Michael. 

Sam tries to fight it as much as he can but Dean has all of the answers. He’s the one with the archangel in his head and the book from Death herself. 

“Does Cas know?” Sam finally asks once he can’t keep fighting Dean’s decision. “You left the bunker without saying goodbye to me. You went on your sick roadtrip to say goodbye to Donna and Mom. Does Cas know?” 

“No.” Dean looks down at his coffin and taps it. “I said goodbye to you the only way I could without having this conversation. I can’t say goodbye to him, Sam.”

“He’ll be a wreck, Dean.”

“I’m a fucking wreck,” Dean snaps back. No one is okay in this situation and he’s well aware of it. “I’m doing this because I have to, not because I want to.” 

“Okay.” Sam nods. He runs a hand through his hair before he walks out of the shed. 

Dean sits on the floor with his back leaning against the table leg, his head hung low. He grinds his teeth together and rubs his temples as he attempts to ease the pain in his head. He can hear shouting, but at this point, he’s not sure if it’s in his head or not. 

“Shut up,” he begs, hitting his head gently against the table. The yelling doesn’t stop. “It’s just me,” he tries through gritted teeth, hitting his head a little harder against the table. 

“Dean!” Cas grabs his shoulders and Dean’s eyes snap open. His boyfriend’s careful hands move up to Dean’s face, his thumbs running over his stubble. “Tell me you weren’t going to kill yourself.” Dean doesn’t answer. He looks pleadingly up into Cas’ eyes as his nose begins to burn. “Tell me you weren’t going to kill yourself,” Cas begs, his own tears spilling over. 

“I don’t want to die,” Dean says for the first time out loud. Cas pulls Dean against him and Dean sobs. Full-on gulping sobs that make his entire body shake as he balls Cas’ trenchcoat into his fists. 


	27. Chapter 27

Dean groans as he wakes up. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the first place. After Michael had left him and attacked everyone else in the bunker, Jack had taken him down. Michael is gone for good. He’s dead and Dean is still alive. They’d all moved the bodies of the fallen hunters and when Sam had started prepping their funerals, Dean had excused himself. Michael had done a number on him physically as well as emotionally and mentally. Before Jack had been able to blast him away with the last of his soul, Michael had bruised his insides with the easy closing of his fist. On top of that, Dean hadn’t really slept in months. In short, Dean was exhausted. 

So when Dean wakes up, he has napper’s remorse, but all he can muster is a small stretch of his arms as he presses his face into his pillow. He decides that he deserves a good sleep and stops trying to gear himself up for getting up and continuing with the aftermath cleanup. He takes a deep breath, satisfied with the silence in his head. It’s a wonderful thing to finally sleep. 

“Dean?” Cas’ voice is gentle. 

“Mmph?”

“You’re awake.” Cas sits on the bed next to Dean and runs his fingers through his hair. If he’s trying to get Dean to wake up, he’s failing. It’s comforting to feel Cas’ tender touch. 

“I was never asleep,” Dean lies, his voice muffled by his pillow and eyes still closed. He hears Cas laugh a little. 

“You’ve been asleep for the past twenty hours. You did get up once to urinate, but you were barely conscious and returned to bed immediately.” 

Dean opens one eye and looks over at Cas in the dim light. “Huh?” 

“I didn’t wake you because, quite frankly, you needed it. I used the time to heal you.” Cas’ eyes are soft as he looks down at Dean. 

“But your grace,” Dean protests, closing his eyes again. 

“Is just fine.” Cas presses a kiss to Dean’s temple as he falls back asleep. “Sleep well, my love.” 

The next time Dean wakes up, he blinks blearily and sits up, rubbing his eyes and stretching out his torso. He turns on his lamp and picks up his phone to check the time. Today is apparently tomorrow at ten in the morning. It’s been roughly thirty-four hours and he slept for most of it. The rest of his phone is full of text, call, and missed alarm notifications that he’s not ready to go through. 

Dean gets up and realizes for the first time that he’s not wearing more than just his underwear. When he’d accidentally fallen asleep, he’d been wearing a full outfit of clothes. Cas must have taken them off and tucked him into bed. Dean changes into a new pair and reaches for a pair of jeans but thinks better of it, grabbing his pj’s instead, pairing them with a black shirt and his favorite robe. He makes a quick stop at the bathroom and catches his reflection as he brushes his teeth. The gash on his forehead is gone. Cas had been busy with the healing. After brushing his teeth, he attempts to make his bed head lie flat. When that proves impossible, he finally heads to the kitchen for some coffee. As he walks through the bunker, he can hear people talking. He looks into the kitchen. The coffee maker is full but no one is there. He pours himself a mug and walks back out, wondering where the hell everyone is. 

When he gets to the library, he finds Sam, Jack, Cas, and Donna. Wait. And Donna? Where did she come from? “We havin’ a party?” Dean asks from the doorway, casually sipping his coffee. 

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Cas greets him the same way Dean has in the past. He walks over and gives Dean a kiss on the cheek. 

“Mornin’,” he answers.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” Donna laughs. 

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Dean takes a seat next to her at the table and Cas sits on his other side. “Did you drive all morning to get here for breakfast?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head, her ponytail swishing. “I got here yesterday.”

“She helped with some of the, uh,” Sam clears his throat, “cleanup. She wouldn’t let up when she found out Michael was gone and you’d KOed.” 

“Cas checked to see if you were awake for dinner,” Donna adds. 

“You weren’t,” Cas reminds him needlessly. 

“I feel like I’ve been asleep for ages.” He rakes a hand through his soft hair. Hedgehog hair. He ignores it. 

“It was only a small coma.” Donna nudges his shoulder affectionately. “How ya doin’?” Everyone looks at him expectantly. He doesn’t know what they want him to say. He doesn’t feel possessed. He doesn’t have a pounding headache anymore. He doesn’t feel the dread that had hung over him since he’d first said yes to Michael almost a year ago. If he’s honest, he feels rested and kind of happy despite everything that just happened. Sam looks haunted by the amount of destruction Michael had wreaked before Jack had taken him out but Dean had had Michael screaming apocalyptic destruction in his head for months. It was sad that they had lost so many hunters, but it was nothing compared to what Michael had been planning. Dean feels good, but he can’t say that. Not with that look on his brother’s face. Not with Cas’ deal with the Empty still on the table. Not with Jack who’s soul may or may not be compromised. 

“Like someone is missing from this table right now,” Dean says. He quickly counts everyone again. Sam, Jack, Cas, Donna. “Where’s Rowena? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” Sam makes a face. He’s worried about her too. They’ve been steadily getting closer. Dean thinks they would make a cute couple if they would kiss already but he doesn’t say anything. “It took a lot out of her. She left pretty soon after you disappeared.” Dean nods and takes a sip of his coffee. 

“Want a tour?” Dean asks after a moment, looking over at Donna. 

“You betcha!” She gets up and Dean follows suit. He looks over his shoulder at Cas before he leaves the room with Donna. Blue eyes shine and his lips twitch into a small smile. 

“That was the library,” Dean says, waving his hand vaguely behind them. “But I’m guessing you’ve already had a tour.”

“What? No!” She mocks surprise before grinning and nodding. “Sam showed me around a little. We had dinner and breakfast in the kitchen. Cas set me up with a room for the night.”

“So, War Room?” Dean asks, ticking it off on his finger.

“Yep!” She nods once.

“Library, obviously.” Second tick. 

“Obviously.” Second nod. 

“Kitchen and bedroom and hopefully bathroom?” 

“Yep, yep, and of course.” Her laughter is contagious and has him smiling as they walk through the halls. “Sam also showed me the armory and a kinky room with devil’s traps and cuffs.” They both laugh, but Dean doesn’t mention that once upon a time he’d been the demon locked up in that room. “Cas said there was one room that was off-limits ‘til you woke up.”

“The Dean Cave,” Dean announces, throwing open a door dramatically. He closes it before she can look inside because it isn’t the right room. “Just kidding. That would be pretty cool if we got there right as you mentioned it though, huh?” 

“You know you’re ridiculous, right?” 

“Oh yeah,” Dean says in his best Minnesotan accent, “you betcha!” She rolls her eyes but can’t seem to hide the smile. They walk a little further and Dean opens the door to the actual Dean Cave. “The Dean Cave!” Dean announces again, this time for real. 

“Holy macaroni.” Donna steps inside and looks around in awe. 

“We’ve got foosball! We’ve got a jukebox. All vinyl, obviously. The comfiest couch.” Dean pats the couch that replaces the old recliners he’d had in here a year ago. “The bar.” He gestures to a pretty well-stocked minibar complete with a kegerator. “Flatscreen with DVD, Bluray, and every streaming service Sammy could think of.” 

“I love it,” Donna declares, plopping down on the couch. Dean sits next to her and cups his hands around his warm mug. “How are you really?” 

“Honestly? I feel great,” he sighs. “I feel like I can breathe again. I slept. For the first time in who the fuck knows how long. I’m still on suicide watch, aren’t I?”

“Yep.” She nods seriously, her lips turned down in a half frown. “I’m glad it’s over.”

“Onto the next,” Dean jokes, raising his mug before taking a sip. “How did you know to come anyway?” 

“Cas. He called to tell me and accidentally let it slip that he found you passed out on the floor.” She gives a sheepish grin before admitting that she got the address by practically browbeating Sam after Cas had hung up to take care of Dean. 

“I’m sorry about…” He waves his hand vaguely and sighs when words fail him. “I’m sorry.” 

“I forgive you,” she says with a small smile. “But only because you’re okay.” She rests her head on his shoulder for a moment and he presses his cheek against the top of her head like a side hug but without the arms. 

“I am okay,” he reassures her. 

“Jodes wanted to come too, but I told her we had it handled.” Donna lifts her head from his shoulder and smiles. “It’s purely selfish. Needed some time with my favorite brother.”

“Don’t you have an actual brother?” Dean asks, not even bothering to hide his amusement. 

“Yeah. Just don’t tell him I said that.” She grabs the remote for the TV and turns it on as she makes herself comfortable against Dean’s side. “What should we watch?”

“Feelin’ Disney?” 

“Always.” 

“Have you been to Disneyland?” Dean asks out of the blue as she scrolls. He and Sam have always used Disneyland as their magical happy place, but neither have ever been unless Sam went with Jess in college which he doubted. “Has  _ anyone _ ever been to Disneyland or is it as made up as the North Pole?”

Donna snorts a laugh and looks up at him. “Did you just call the North Pole made up?”

“Answer the question.” 

“I’ve gone a few times. I went when I was little but I mostly remember takin’ Wendy when she was still wearin’ pigtails.” Donna finds the movie she was looking for. “It’s you.” She presses play on Sleeping Beauty and Dean smiles. 

Cas walks in as Aurora sings to her owl prince stand-in in the forest. “I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam,” Cas says more than sings along with her as he brings in two sandwiches. 

“Yet, I know it’s true. That visions are seldom all they seem,” Dean sings back.

“But if I know you, I know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once.” Cas kisses Dean’s hand gently, their eyes locked.

“The way you did once…” Dean runs his thumb over Cas’ lips gently.

“Upon a dream,” Cas whispers to the music, pressing another kiss into the pad of Dean’s thumb. “Do you need a refill?” 

“Yeah. Thanks, sweetie,” Dean says as he relinquishes his empty coffee mug. 

“And Donna?” They both look over at her and her eyes are filled to the brim with unbridled happiness. 

“You’re just so _ cute _ !” She squeals. “I’m sorry. Yes. Water, please.” Cas nods and leaves them with their sandwiches, the movie still playing. “You two are goin’ to give me cavities. I didn’t know Cas cooked.” 

“Not often,” Dean says before taking a bite. “Last time I remember him actually making a sandwich was during the Dickacalypse after we sprang him from the mental hospital.” 

“What?!”

“Shh! I’m trying to watch!” Dean laughs. 

By the time the movie is over, Jack is sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, Cas is standing next to Dean’s side of the couch, their fingers loosely laced together, and Sam is leaning against the foosball table, watching from behind the couch. 

“We sure drew a crowd,” Donna says, looking around as Dean turns off the tv mid-credits. 

“Sammy can’t resist a good princess movie,” Dean teases. Sam rolls his eyes and huffs. 

“I only came in here to see if you wanted to play a board game.”

“Sure. So did Jack and Cas.” Dean gets up from the couch, stretching and turning to face his brother. “You wanted her dress to be pink, didn’t you?”

“Hell no. I’m with Merryweather.” Sam smiles and shakes his head at the teasing nonsense before going to the cupboard in the corner of the room where Dean stashed all of the boardgames. He pulls out the box for Risk and holds it up. 

“A little competitive, don’t’cha think?” Donna asks.

“What’s a little friendly competition?” Sam grins and Dean rolls his eyes. He loves Risk as much as the next person, but he isn’t feeling it right now. He just wants to relax. 

“Not friendly, for one,” Cas points out. 

“I think we should play Candyland,” Jack says, holding up the much more brightly colored box. 

“Fuck yeah!” Dean takes the box from Jack and starts to lead the way back to the War Room where they will have enough room to play. He hears Sam protesting behind him. “Quiet, Sammy. The grown-ups are going to Candyland.” 

Cas brings the actual candy, making Donna giggle. He sets up the board by putting Jolly Ranchers on each space. There’s some gingerbread cookies by Plumpy, a few candy canes and Andes mints set up by Mr. Mint, a pile of gumdrops and JuJubes by Jolly, Red Vines and a noticeable lack of black licorice by Lord Licorice, chocolate-covered peanuts by Granma Nutt (Dean snorts with laughter at her name and earns a warning glance from Cas when Jack asks why), some lollipops by Princess Lolly, a plate of mochi icecream balls has a place of honor by Queen Frostine, a pile of assorted chocolates by Gloppy, and assorted king-sized candy bars by King Kandy. 

The table looks like someone emptied their trick-or-treating goods onto the table in an attempt to eat it all in one sitting. The pieces aren’t traditional Candyland pieces. They have a weird assortment of Monopoly and Clue pieces to choose from. Jack takes the dog from Monopoly, Donna the blue Mrs. Peacock from Clue, the gun from Clue for Sam, the battleship for Cas, and, of course, Dean has the racecar. 

“I’ve never played with real candy.” Donna laughs. 

“Dean insists on it,” Cas says as he takes a seat next to Dean. 

“You can lose some of your candy if another player lands on your space like in Sorry,” Dean explains. “And you have to beat the boss to earn the special candies.” Sam rolls his eyes at Dean’s made-up rules but he’s smiling. 

“Is there another way to play?” Jack asks seriously and Sam facepalms. 

“We could try playing with healthy alternatives.” 

Dean gasps loudly and slams his hands down on the table to stare at his brother in shock. “We could  _ not _ like  _ ever _ ! Enough with this blasphemy!”

“That doesn’t qualify as blasph—”

“Thank you, Cas.”

The game commences and everyone starts hoarding their candy in little piles in front of them. Even Sam gets into it, battling Lord Licorice for Red Vines by acting out zipline charade-style. Dean feels like he’s at home. Laughter fills the bunker. Everyone snacks idly on Jolly Ranchers, telling jokes and teasing each other. Cas holds Dean’s hand on the table, sitting so close their legs are pressed together. Donna jumps up, her arms raised in triumph when she wins against Queen Frostine in a quick match of Pictionary. Jack eats three lollipops at once. The outside world doesn’t exist. The pain of the last few months is temporarily tabled so they can all relax for one moment and pretend that this is normal. 

An ache in Dean’s chest reminds him that happiness is his angel’s demise. He quietly takes his hand from Cas’ and excuses himself from the table, announcing that he needs to get a drink. He can hear them still laughing and having a good time, but when he looks over his shoulder at the doorway, Cas is looking back at him, his smile faded with a hint of a frown. He’s going to be okay. 

In the kitchen, Dean grabs himself a beer and leans against the counter before sinking to the floor. The beer isn’t strong enough to make him forget about the deal, but it’ll have to do. He takes a deep breath, his eyes closed as he listens to the distant conversation. Someone has made it to King Kandy and the game will be over. He downs the entire beer and eyes the six-pack, debating grabbing another one before he decides against it. He hangs his head for a moment, steeling himself. One fight at a time. He’s still recovering from Michael even if he feels so much better. The next battle will be Cas’ deal. His next battle is against the Empty. 


	28. Chapter 28

“So,” Donna says as they walk around outside. Dean grabs a Jolly Rancher from his prize winnings pocket and unwraps it slowly. “I know you said you’re fine…”

“I am.” Sam, Jack, and Cas are out getting pizza to bring back to the bunker. Originally Cas was going to go alone but Jack wanted to tag along and Sam thought it would be good to give Dean some time with Donna. Dean still hasn’t changed out of his pj’s, his robe tied loosely and his hands shoved into the pockets as they walk around. 

“Okay, but everythin’ you just went through is a lot for one person to handle. Everyone seems to have a piece to the puzzle, but no one but you has the full picture.” Her arm is looped with his, keeping him close, keeping him from finding a way out of the conversation. He doesn’t have an answer so he just nods. “You won’t talk to me about it.” He shakes his head. It’s too much to put on her shoulders. “You won’t talk to Cas about it.”

“I can’t.” He stops walking and looks over at her. “You’re all too close to the problem. Too close to me. I can’t.” 

“So talk to someone who isn’t close to the problem.” She’s serious. She wants him to talk to a therapist. There’s not a hint of teasing, but why would there be? It’s a serious conversation and one that he knows needs to happen no matter how much he doesn’t want it to. 

“Yeah, I’ll just walk into the nearest shrink’s office and tell them about how I was possessed by an angel and how that’s a bad thing. I’ll tell them all about alternate universes and what it’s like raising Rosemary’s baby. I’m sure they’ll understand.” It suddenly hits him that there is one therapist he could actually talk to. He’s met one therapist who’s in the life with no way out. Mia was a grief counselor, but she was also a shifter and had proven herself. Why is he considering this? He doesn’t need therapy. 

“I’m only sayin’ it could help,” Donna says, tugging on his arm to get him to start walking again. 

“When do you have to go back?” Dean asks, remembering that Donna has a job, a life. 

“Tryin’ to get rid of me?” she laughs a little. 

“Never. You’ve been here for two days though. How long do I get to keep you here?” 

“I have to leave in the mornin’.” She sighs and looks up at him. “Do you need me to stay?” He shakes his head. 

“How’s Jody?” When Donna smiles at the mention of her name, Dean can’t help but smile too. She’s happy and that much is obvious. 

“She wanted to come down too when I told her what was goin’ on.” Donna kicks a rock gently and watches it skip across the grass before landing silently. “Claire even wanted to come check in,” she laughs. 

“What? Why?” 

“She does like you. You know that, right?” Donna asks, looking up. Dean shrugs. They’d been on better terms than where they started, but he wasn’t really aware that she cared enough about him to be worried about him. “I told ‘em you didn’t need a crowd and that I’d check in after.” 

“Thanks.” He’s glad Donna is here, but he’s not sure he could take Jody’s mothering or Claire’s apparent worry. 

“It’s purely selfish,” she says, waving him off with a smile. “Soak up all of my Dean time while I can.” 

“How’d you get here on such short notice?” 

“I called in sick.” Right. Duh. That exists for people with real jobs. “I left halfway through my shift sayin’ I had food poisonin’ and got here as quick as I could.”

“You didn’t have to even if I’m glad you did.” 

“I did so have to. You had me worried sick for months.” They’re quiet for a few steps before she says, “I had no idea that some FBI agent turned spa lunch lady would have this big of an influence on my life.” 

“Are you always this sappy?” He smiles as he looks down at her. 

“Yes. And so are you and you know it.” 

“Yeah.” He pulls her into a hug and presses his cheek to the top of her head. “Just don’t go tellin’ everybody that. I have a reputation to keep up.” 

“Oh yeah, you betcha!”

Everyone is in the Dean Cave again for dinner. There are bottles of soda added to Dean’s minibar and boxes of pizza rested precariously on the foosball table. Dean has pirated copies of the theatrical releases of Star Wars and A New Hope is playing. Cas is on the floor, his back resting against Dean’s legs. Again, it feels just how things are supposed to be. The entire family is here and Dean feels comforted and protected which only drives needles into his heart. 

It’s after midnight when the movies are over. Human Jack would have been fast asleep on the floor, but he’s back to full power and wide awake. Everyone yawns their “goodnight”s and “sleep well”s and disperse to their bedrooms. 

Dean climbs into his bed and watches Cas change out of the trenchcoat before slipping into his spot beside Dean in nothing but boxers. He curls up against Cas, resting his head on his chest and listening to the drumming of his heart for a few moments. 

“Do you think I need to talk to someone?” Dean asks quietly after a little while. Cas kisses the top of Dean’s head while he thinks. 

“Do you think you need to talk to someone?” 

“Sometimes, I guess.” He doesn’t want to admit it, but it happens anyway. At some point, it had been drilled into him that going to therapy and needing to talk to someone made him less. Less strong. Less valid. Less of a human being. He knows it’s wrong, but it’s there still.

“I know you can’t talk to me about what I did,” Cas whispers. “I’m not going to ask you to.” 

Dean closes his eyes tight to block out the pain. He doesn’t move or say anything for ten beats of Cas’ heart. “Is Jack okay?” Dean asks.

“I don’t think so.” Cas draws invisible lines to connect the faint freckles on Dean’s shoulder. “I think he burned off his soul, which could be catastrophic.”

“That already sounds pretty fucking bad, Cas.” 

“I know.” Dean’s already drifting to sleep, lulled by Cas’ gentle touch and even breathing. “We’ll take care of him. And you.”

“And you,” Dean murmurs. 

The next morning, Cas wakes Dean up early to say goodbye to Donna. It’s only six but Cas had made her coffee and a bagel to go with a tupperware of fruit and a juice box that Dean has no idea where it came from. When Dean walks out to where she’s packed her car back up with her overnight bag and the to-go breakfast, Jack is hugging her. 

“It was nice to meet you,” Jack says politely, all dimples. 

“You too, Jack,” Donna grins back. “I’ll make sure to bring more nougat next time.” 

“Thank you!” Jack turns to head back into the bunker and sees Dean. “She’s going to bring nougat next time.” 

“I heard. You might be her new favorite nephew.” Dean watches Jack look back at her with another dimpled grin before actually going inside. “Made his weekend,” he says as he walks closer to Donna. 

“He’s a good kid. I’ll miss you guys.” She pulls Dean into a hug. “I love you,” she says as he hugs back. 

“I know,” he says when they detach. He remembers saying the same to Charlie right where they’re standing now. His little sisters. “Love you too.”

“You’ll call if you need anything?” she asks, her tone turning it from a nice gesture to a veiled threat. 

“I will,” he promises. “Safe drive.” 

Donna gets into her truck and waves out the window as Cas stands next to Dean and winds his arm around Dean’s waist. They both wave and stand there watching as her truck disappears down the road. 

“I think I’m going to go,” Dean says without looking at Cas. “To talk to someone, I mean.”

“Oh?” 

“While you were gone… When you were in the Empty… There was a case we went on. There was this shrink. Mia Vallens.” Dean looks over at Cas finally. “I think she can help.” 

“What makes her different?” Cas’ eyes are squinted in that way that makes Dean’s chest tighten in the best way and the early morning sun is making his skin glow. He looks gorgeous and Dean kisses the tip of his nose because he can. 

“She’s a shifter. A good one with a good heart.” Dean steps out of Cas’ embrace to lace their hands together instead. 

“I think I should bring Jack to see Donatello while you’re visiting Mia,” Cas says. “Hopefully he’ll be able to give some insight with the soulless problem.” 

“What am I going to tell Sam?” There’s no way Dean is telling Sam he’s going off on a road trip alone to go to therapy. He won’t believe it and if by some miracle he did buy it, he wouldn’t let Dean go in peace. 

“I’ll handle it.” It’s three words but it lifts a burden from Dean’s shoulders and he looks at Cas appreciatively. He smiles a little and starts walking away from the bunker, pulling Cas along with him. “Where are we going?” 

“Just trust me,” Dean says. Cas nods and follows Dean up the road without protest. The walk alone is nice. It’s quiet out in the middle of nowhere, but it’s a different kind of quiet in the morning when the sun is still waking up. Dean knows that no one lives over here, but some of the evidence that someone had at one point remains. There’s a barn with part of its roof missing and nothing inside, the faded paint peeling. 

“It’s not our barn from Illinois, but…” Dean shrugs. Cas pushes open the creaky door and steps inside. 

“You still think about the barn in Illinois?” Cas asks. 

“I mean, yeah. Don’t you?” He looks around the barn’s blank walls. There are no sigils or wardings. Just a hole in the bare ceiling where sunlight streams through, illuminating the dust and dirt. 

“You shot me, stabbed me, and accused me of being a tax accountant. I think about it often.” He pulls Dean to him and kisses him not at all gently. Dean’s arms wrap around Cas, his fingers tangling into the thick dark hair as Cas pushes him against the wall and presses into him. 

“Cas,” Dean moans. It’s the first time they’ve been able to touch each other like this since December when Dean wound up with Michael riding shotgun for a few months. Now he’s free and touch starved and allowing himself to be swallowed whole. 

“We should probably go,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s lips. 

“No,” Dean groans back. They’re sprawled out on top of Cas’ trenchcoat, their clothes littering the ground around them. Cas starts to pull away, untangling his legs from Dean but offers no resistance when Dean pulls him back down for more kisses. “We’re not going to see each other for a few days.”

“I know.” 

“I’ll miss you,” Dean breathes, their lips brushing. 

“No chick-flick moments,” Cas reminds him teasingly before kissing him deeply. “I’ll miss you too, sweetheart.” 

They get dressed slowly, drinking each other in as they try to extend each moment before they go on their separate adventures. Cas’ hair is as wild as it had been when they first met thanks to Dean’s mauling. He doesn’t bother telling Cas that his sex hair is glorious for fear he might try to fix it to appear less conspicuous. 

“Did you have a good time with Donna?” Cas asks as they walk back to the bunker together. 

“Yeah. I missed her.” Dean thinks about the unguarded fun from yesterday and both wants to cling to Cas tighter and push him as far as he can. “I think we all needed that distraction. That moment to breathe, ya know? Sam says he’s good, but I don’t believe him.” 

“Jack says he’s good too,” Cas says, shaking his head a little. 

“Sam’s going to want to go off on a hunt if he’s left in the bunker for one more minute.” He knows Sam knows better, but he also knows him well enough to know that after everything he went through and watched Dean go through, he’s hurting. And when Winchesters hurt, they hunt to save others. 

“I’ll bring him with me,” Cas promises. 

“Thanks.” 

When Dean arrives in Madison, Wisconsin, he finds every reason not to go to the little house where Mia Vallens runs her therapy office. He stops to get gas and figures he should probably eat so he finds himself a deli and eats his sandwich and chips in the parking lot while he checks his phone for updates from Cas and Sam. 

Jack sends a picture of his pet snake, Felix, who he brought along for the ride and Dean jumps, closing the picture as fast as possible and dropping his phone in the process. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, ghouls, killer clowns, demons, and archangels apparently are all fine, but snakes still make Dean jump right out of his skin. 

“No. No, thanks. Nope,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head. 

There really is no more time in the day. The office is probably closed at this point, but he drives over anyway. It looks the same as it did last time he was here. It’s a nice place with a sign that tells him it still belongs to Dr. Vallens. 

Dean grumbles to himself and wonders how he even made himself get to this point. He’s never needed therapy before. Well. That was debatable. Maybe he needed it, but he never went through with it. Donna knew the right things to say though. And Cas supported this. And deep down, Dean wants to know if it’ll work. He doesn’t know how much he’s ready to share if any of it. 

He gets out of the car and walks across the empty street. He can feel his nerves being set on fire, his stomach doing somersaults, and his mouth going dry as he walks up the stairs. Last time he’d been here, he wasn’t nervous. He’d been angry, resigned, and unwilling to go further in his life, but he hadn’t been there for himself and that made all the difference. He wipes his sweating hands on his jeans before he knocks on the door and pushes it open. 

“Can I help you?” The assistant asks immediately. Tim? Tom? 

“Yeah… I uh…” Dean stumbles. Tom’s face changes to a more patient and caring look as Dean suddenly changes from intruder to someone who needs help. It makes Dean’s insides squirm. 

“Do you have an appointment?” he asks, glancing at his computer. 

“No.” Dean scratches the back of his head. “I need to make one.” 

“Have you seen Dr. Vallens before?” Tom asks, gesturing to a chair on the other side of his desk. Dean takes it and tries to ignore how out of place he feels. 

“Unofficially,” he half-laughs. Tom raises his eyebrows. He’s seen too many patients. He doesn’t remember the one group of three that barged in a year and a half ago. He only met him once and Dean never put his name in the system. “No.”

With a few back and forth questions, Dean is entered into the system as Dean Campbell, a name he uses around Lebanon. His fake health insurance is added along with his fake credit card. 

“When would you like to schedule for?” Tom asks. 

“I have to see her tomorrow,” Dean says. There is no  _ if possible _ because it’s tomorrow or never. There is no  _ now _ like he’d demanded last time. Tom’s face twists with sympathy and mild annoyance as he clicks on his computer. Surprise dons on his features and he looks up. 

“Someone canceled for tomorrow morning at nine. Can you make that, Mr. Campbell?” 

It still doesn’t feel real so he just nods and gets up. “Thanks.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow morning then.” Tom walks Dean to the door unnecessarily and bids him a goodnight. Tomorrow. Tomorrow Dean is going to therapy and it’s not for a hunt. He’s not going to hide behind a lie. He’s going to tell the truth. 


	29. Chapter 29

Dean fidgets in his seat as he waits for Dr. Vallens to be ready. He had woken up well before he’d needed to and gone to a coffee shop to have three cups before finally driving here. To say he’s nervous and jittery is an understatement. He texts Cas. 

“Dean?” Mia calls from the doorway behind him. He gets up quickly to face her. She looks a little surprised and confused. Last time he’d been here, he was far from decent. “Is something wrong?” 

“Generally, yeah,” he says before shaking his head. “Not like I’m on a hunt and that’s why I’m here kind of thing. Not this time. I, uh… I need to talk and I don’t know any other shrinks.” 

She nods, the confusion melted away and replaced with understanding. “Come in.” He follows her into the big room that he remembers from last time. She takes her seat and he looks between the couch and the two armchairs. “Either works.”

“Right.” He sits in the armchair that’s closest to her so he can pretend the rest of the room doesn’t exist, making the room smaller and more manageable. 

“Did you lose another loved one?” she asks gently. 

“Not exactly, but I think I’m going to.” He runs a hand over his face to hide the fact that he’s said one sentence and is already near tears. He can’t lose Cas. He takes a deep breath that shutters. “Do you know about the Empty?” 

“I know of it.” She nods. “I admit I don’t know a lot about it besides that the keeper is the Shadow as Eve was for Purgatory and Death is for humans.”

“The Shadow? That’s what it’s called?” She nods again. He sighs and sits forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Tell me about your loved one,” she prompts gently. 

“Cas.” He swallows hard. He’d only half expected to touch on this today. He’d thought he would walk in and detail the apocalypse that Michael had planned. That he’d have to talk to her about his suicide plans that he didn’t even want to go through with because he thought it was the only way. He had expected to hold this part about Cas close to his heart and never let it out. “He’s my boyfriend and he’s the dumbest, smartest, and most infuriating being I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet.” 

“Being?”

“He’s an angel who’s disobeyed Heaven more times than anyone can keep count.” Dean smiles a little. He’s mostly disobeyed Heaven for Dean. “We, uh… We’re kind of raising Lucifer’s son… You met him.” She looks alarmed like most people do when they hear Lucifer’s name, but Jack is good. “Jack.” Her face softens and she nods. 

“Things weren’t so good between you and Jack before. What changed?”

“I blamed him. Back then, Cas was dead. My mom was missing, presumed dead. We’d just lost a lot of people and he was the easiest to blame. He was the son of the asshole who killed my boyfriend. The son of the literal devil. I didn’t want anything to do with him. And then he spoke into the Empty and brought Cas back. I don’t know how. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t either. He just… did it.” Dean closes his eyes and clenches his jaw for a moment. “Jack was dying and the Shadow or whatever was going to take him. I… Cas made a deal to get Jack back. He said the Empty can claim him but only if he’s truly happy.” 

“How did you react to that?” Her tone is soothing and makes him want to tell her everything. Or maybe that’s just how desperate he is to talk. 

“What does that even mean? Truly happy? Do I not make him happy? We still have a relationship. We still live together and kiss and…” he clears his throat and looks down. “Does none of it make him happy? But I don’t want him to be that happy anymore. I don’t want him to just be gone. I killed myself last time he died. I just fucking can’t.”

“Has there been any other major stressors in your life since he made the deal? Maybe his unhappiness has nothing to do with how happy your relationship makes him.” 

“Just, uh… one.” Michael. But Michael is gone now. “We were kinda in the middle of fighting the archangel, Michael.” He wants to walk out and say thanks over his shoulder. He wants to say that he tried and that therapy just isn’t for him. But another part keeps him in his chair and tells him that this is good. That he needs to talk about this. That she’s listening to him. “Michael had possessed me. Twice. The, uh… The second time, I got out of it by locking him in my mind. Billie… I mean Death… She told me that the only way to save everyone was to hop in a box to trap Michael and basically kill myself.” 

“Did you consider it? How did Cas feel about it?” 

“I did more than consider it,” he allows. “I built the box. I was about to fuckin’ do it. I didn’t want to. I just thought it was the only way to end Michael and save this world. Cas cried. He was worried. He thought he’d lost me.” 

“Doesn’t that show you how much you do mean to him?” she asks. He nods. “Is Michael gone now?”

“Yeah… He, uh.” Dean sits up, leaning back in his chair and tapping his knees anxiously. “Jack killed him and probably burned off his entire soul to do it. Cas is with him now to find out how bad it is.”

“It sounds like your family can’t catch a break.” 

“If the punches stop coming then I lose him. If they keep coming, I don’t know how much longer I can take it,” Dean says, surprising himself. “Keep ‘em coming. I think I would do anything for one more day with him.” 

“Do you feel like you’re grieving his loss before he’s gone?” 

Dean goes cold. He’s had to grieve losing Cas so many times before even if they were just for quick flashes. He’d lost him when he’d gone to live with Lisa after Sam went to Hell. Again when he walked into the municipal waters after the Leviathan took over. When he’d just gotten him back and he was gone again, trapped in hellish nightmares after rescuing Sam. When he was left alone in Purgatory and didn’t know if Cas was alive or dead. When Cas was human and Dean had arrived just in time to watch him be stabbed. They’d hugged and said their goodbyes over Dean’s probable death what felt like a million years ago when he was carrying the soul bomb to kill Amara. He’d grieved the loss of time with Cas then. He hadn’t told him he loved him yet when they were there. Then Cas died and Dean saw it. He had watched the light burst from his eyes and mouth, an angel blade speared through him. He’d done his fair share of grieving for Cas. 

“Yeah,” he says honestly after a heavy moment of thought. “I don’t think I’ll stop until I find a way to get him out of the deal and save him.” 

“Is there a way to do that without bringing yourself harm?” 

Dean shrugs. “I won’t know until I try and I have to try.” 

Dean has his new grief journal propped open on his knees as he sits in his motel room. He bought new pens to go with the journal Dr. Vallens had given him. The only thing he’s written so far is the phone number of her office that he’s supposed to get a call from once every two weeks or call if there’s an emergency. He won’t be calling in an emergency. He taps his pen against the page, tiny dots marking where his pen hits. 

_ I’m fine. I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine. _ He writes across the first line. 

His phone buzzes. “Thank you,” he says, slamming his journal shut and grabbing the phone. “Hey, love.”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says in that way that melts Dean down to his core. He’s still pretty raw from his therapy session so that should have something to do with it too. “How was your visit?”

“I have a fucking grief journal,” Dean tells him. “How was yours?” 

“Our son burned off most of his soul. It’s practically gone.” Cas sighs but Dean’s heart leaps. Their son. “I’m worried about him, but Donatello thinks that as long as we keep him on the right path, he should be fine.” 

“The right path. Right. That’s easy to do with a being that’s stronger than God himself.” Dean opens his journal again and starts doodling the solar system across the top of the page. 

“He said Felix seems sad so even if he can’t empathize, I think he still cares,” Cas says. Dean stops doodling and tries to think of who Felix is. 

“Who the fuck is Felix?” 

“His snake.”

“Why does he still have that thing? Don’t we have a no pets rule? We should have a no pets rule.” He starts drawing again. 

“I think you should take him to the pet store tomorrow to get the things he needs,” Cas suggests. “It might teach him how to care about other beings despite the lack of a soul. And you two haven’t been out together in a few weeks.”

“You want me to take him to the pet store,” Dean repeats slowly. “To get  _ snake _ things? So the  _ snake _ can be happier? Do you hear yourself right now?” 

“It’s a corn snake and he isn’t going to hurt you. He will stay in Jack’s room once you two get a proper aquarium. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Dean.”

“I’m not  _ afraid _ ,” he says even though he’s terrified of the thing. 

“Sure.” 

“I’m not afraid of anything,” he says, sitting up straighter even though no one can see him. 

“No, just airplanes, snakes, teenagers, germs, abandonment —”

“Thank you, Cas!” Dean interrupts. He scribbles  _ I am not afraid of airplanes, snakes, teens, germs, and abandonment. _ He crosses out  _ not _ . “I’m going to head out soon. Check out is at noon.” 

“We will be back by tomorrow morning,” Cas promises. “I love you. Text me when you get home.”

“I will. Love you too.” He listens to Cas hang up, the phone still between his shoulder and his ear as he writes in across the center of the page,  _ I love Cas.  _ He drops the phone back onto the bed and sketches out what Cas’ wings look like on either side of the statement. 

When Dean gets back to the bunker, he texts Cas and eats his dinner that’s just an apple pie. It’s not often that he gets the bunker to himself. He plays Metallica as loud as he can and dances on the table in the War Room singing along. He hides all of Sam’s shampoo and conditioner bottles, leaving only a set of clippers in his bathroom. He eyes his journal. 

“This is such crap,” he mutters as he picks it up and sits at his desk in his room. He opens it again and taps the pen to the beat of the music that’s still blasting through the bunker. He bounces his knee and hums before closing it again and picking it up to write somewhere else. 

“Write about my fucking feelings.” He drops the notebook down in the kitchen. He grabs a beer and takes a sip, sitting down to open the book again. “What am I supposed to write?” He stares at the page as he drinks his beer. When it’s empty and he still hasn’t written anything, he grabs the book again and leaves the kitchen. 

Dean walks into the demon room. The one that only has a devil’s trap and a single chair. He sits in the chair, one of his legs dangling over the arm, and he opens his book. 

_ I hate how afraid I am. I didn’t know real fear until I was almost five and then it never stopped. _

Dean writes in his journal in his least favorite room for three hours before he makes his way to bed, stashing the notebook in his side table. He crawls into his bed after shedding his clothes and texts Cas goodnight before drifting off to sleep. 

The aisles of a pet store is where Dean finds himself as Jack peers excitedly into the tanks at various reptiles. He’s not happy about it, but he’s a pushover when it comes to Cas and he has a soft spot for the kid. 

“What kind of tank do you need?” Dean asks, anxious to get the hell out of dodge. 

“I don’t know,” Jack says. “I should ask someone.” 

“You do that.” Dean watches Jack walk away to go find an employee and when he’s out of sight, Dean grabs his phone. He hits Donna’s speed-dial and waits. 

“Heya, Dean!” she answers brightly. 

“Do you know where I am right now?” He asks, making a face as he finally spots the snake that’s coiled in the corner of its tank. 

“Give a girl a hint,” she laughs. 

“I’m at the pet store with Jack to set his snake up with a better home,” Dean whispers harshly. 

“That’s sweet! Why’re we whispering?” she whispers back.

“This thing eats  _ mice _ .” He’s panicking a little bit as he reads the care sheet in front of the corn snake cage. “Why am I here right now? We should not be here in a place that just keeps these things in glass tanks on a wall. What if they get out?”

“Are you afraid of snakes?” she asks. He can hear the smile in her voice as if she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. “Follow-up question: have you ever been to a zoo?”

“I am  _ not _ afraid,” he says. Why does everyone keep saying that? “Why? What’s at the zoo?”

“Oh nothin’,” she laughs. “Just more cages than a pet store. How did Jack get a snake if you’re so scared?”

“I said I’m not afraid!” Dean insists. “It’s a long story. They’re coming back. Oh my god. I can’t do this. The mice. The snakes.” He makes a gagging noise. 

“Deep breath. You got this, Winchester. Now get your butt into gear and go be the good dad you know you are.” She hangs up before he can argue and he takes that deep breath. 

He watches Jack collecting everything he needs to make Felix happy. There’s hope yet. His soul might be fried, but he’s here making sure that his rescue pet is being given a good home. He’s even talking to the employee about how to handle a new corn snake. 

“I just don’t want to scare him,” Jack tells Dean as they drive back to the bunker with the right sized tank, bedding, food, and lighting in the backseat of the Impala. What little soul he has left is the purest of heart. 

“Just keep him in your room and we’re good,” Dean warns. He’ll have to go buy a mini-fridge for Jack to keep the mice in later. There’s no way he’ll be able to eat out of the fridge again if Jack keeps Felix’s food supply in the same place. 

“I want him to be happy,” Jack says, his arm out the window so his hand can ride on the wind. “His best friend just died.” 

“You’re a good kid.” 


	30. Chapter 30

Donna hears a knock on the door. It’s her birthday and she hasn’t heard from anyone yet, but it’s not even noon yet. She pockets her phone that she’d just checked for the millionth time and goes to the door. Jody, Dean, and Cas are at the door. 

“Heya!” she beams, her day suddenly the best. 

“Hey!” 

“Hey, darling!”   
  
“Sorry,” Cas says as he puts a cloth bag over her head and grabs her arms. She laughs as she’s fake kidnapped and put into the back of what is probably Dean’s car. Jody sits next to her and once all the doors are closed, Jody takes the bag off. 

“Surprise,” Cas deadpans. 

“Happy birthday!” Jody gives her a kiss and grins. 

“Happy birthday,” Dean says, looking up into the rearview mirror at her.

“Did you just blindfold me to walk me to the car?” Donna asks. All three of them nod and she’s a little surprised at how unsynchronized it is considering there are only three people. “Where’re we goin’?”

“That part is classified,” Dean says before Cas can answer. 

“I packed you a bag,” Jody reassures her. “The drive isn’t long, but we’re staying there for the night.” 

“Stop givin’ her hints!” Dean says from the front. He cranks the volume on Cas’ mixtape, Mandy Moore singing Candy loudly to cover Jody’s eyeroll. 

“I hope you like massages,” Jody says in Donna’s ear, disguising the extra hint with another kiss. Donna grins. She knows exactly where Dean is taking them. 

Before heading to the spa, Dean checks them in at the front desk of the hotel. There’s a fountain in the lobby which tells anybody who enters how nice this place is. There’s also a massive fireplace that’s not lit because it’s July, but it’s there. Jody’s hand stays in Donna’s as Donna walks around the lobby with her mouth open. It’s beautiful here. Last time she had been here, they hadn’t entered the hotel part. They’d gone straight to the spa that had been glorious all by itself. 

“Two kings,” she hears Dean confirm. 

“What name is the reservation under?” 

“Hanscum.” She smiles when she remembers checking them in as Donna and Dean Hanscum. “Let’s go,” he says, tossing Donna a key card. 

The elevator they have to take up to their room is glass. Cas mutters something to Dean about not pressing all of the buttons while Jody looks out over the immaculate lobby from the glass wall of the elevator. 

“When did you meet?” Donna asks, pointing between Jody and Cas. 

“This morning approximately fifteen minutes before we kidnapped you,” Cas says. 

“About damn time,” Jody says, sending a glare Dean’s way. Dean looks away. He pushes another button that’s on a floor above theirs. Cas grabs his hand. 

“It’s been revelating to meet people that I’ve only heard of,” Cas says, taking the focus away from Dean’s inability to behave in public. “I’m more accustomed to meeting enemies. It’s refreshing to meet friends.” 

“Let’s stop discussing my lack of social skills and go find our rooms,” Dean interrupts, leading them out of the elevator and down the hallway. It reminds Donna a little bit of the fancy-schmancy hotel Dean had put them up in for the cheese curd fest years ago. 

“I think this one’s us,” Jody says, stopping at a door. She unlocks it and pushes the door open as Dean goes to the next one and opens it. “Meet in the lobby in thirty?” 

“Oh, yeah. You betcha!” Dean calls before closing his door. Donna laughs and shakes her head. She will never get over that for as long as she lives. 

“Oh, wow,” Donna breathes as she turns and looks at the room. Jody has their bags on the floor against the wall. A massive bed with what looks like a thousand pillows made of clouds pulls all of the attention. Like, sure, there’s a huge tv, a mini-fridge, and wonderful art on the walls, but there is a bed made of fluff pulled from cloud nine. 

“How did Dean even do this?” Jody asks, shocked into standing still. 

“You don’t wanna know,” Donna says because she knows. She hops onto the bed and lays still, sinking into the down duvet. They haven’t even gone to the spa yet and she’s blissed out. Jody joins her, crawling on top of her to pin her to the zen cloud. 

“Happy birthday, beautiful,” Jody says, her lips brushing against Donna’s. Her kisses are always something else. It’s been too long. They need to live closer together because the commute is killing her. These kisses are killing her. She groans into Jody’s mouth and wraps her arms around her. 

“Is this my present? Death by kisses?” Donna asks when Jody’s kisses trail down to her throat. “I think I’d be okay with that.” 

“Don’t you dare say hanky panky,” Jody warns, her hands hot on Donna’s thigh. 

“I can and I will,” Donna threatens before bursting into a fit of giggles that Jody can’t help but join. 

A half an hour later, the four of them head to the spa. Dean and Donna know what to expect and neither of them are telling the punchline. 

“What are you doing with this?” Cas asks, grabbing a pair of swim trunks from Dean as they walk. 

“We’re going swimming after the massages, Cas,” Dean answers, taking the swim trunks back. “You have to wear  _ something _ in the pool.” 

“Massages?” Jody asks. “I thought the hotel was it? You really went all out, didn’t you?” 

“She’s my best friend,” Dean says, ignoring Cas who is inspecting the swim trunks again. 

“Awww, shucks,” Donna grins, punching Dean in the arm. He acts like he’s been hit by a grenade launcher, staggering into the wall. “Oh, you baby.” 

“You punched me!” 

“You said you would behave. We are in public and there are innocents watching,” Cas says in a low voice. Jody laughs. 

“That doesn’t sound like me. Why would I promise that?” Dean asks. “Anyway, yeah. Massages. Since it’s us four, I booked couples massages.” He says it like it’s no big deal, but the Dean that Donna had had a first friendaversary with never would have booked massages. She grins. He seems happier. Lighter. 

It’s the same rundown as before. When they check-in for their massages, Jody and Donna are led to their locker room and spa showers. They each have their questionnaires and fill them out quickly. It hasn’t changed much. The lockers are way too nice to be called lockers. She and Jody both change out of their clothes and into the soft white robes that are provided. 

“Selfie!” Donna says, grabbing her phone before she locks her locker. “We match!”   
“Couples shouldn’t match,” Jody grumbles as she positions herself next to Donna and plants a wet one on her cheek. Donna snaps the photo and tosses the phone back onto her jeans before locking them inside. 

“We are super duper cute though,” Donna says, kissing Jody back. “You have to try out these showers!” She drags Jody over to the showers that have the insane amount of showerheads and to-die-for soaps. 

“Is this place too fancy for me?” Jody asks through the wall that’s dividing them as they turn their showers on. “Oh god, this is amazing. How am I going to go back to one shower head?”

“With your detachable one at home while you think about me,” Donna calls back. Jody laughs loudly and it fills the room, floating on the steam. 

Donna plays with the soaps, creating the perfect mix of perfumed smells between the body wash and hair products. She breathes in the glorious scents that surround her and lets herself stand still, her eyes closed as she stands in the hot water. When she finally steps out, she pulls Jody into the sauna that has no business being so relaxing and hot at the same time. 

“I’m dying, but I’m happy about it,” Jody says. 

“That means it’s working!” Donna beams. 

After staying for no more than five minutes, Donna leads Jody to the lounge where the snacks and comfy chairs are. Jody pours herself some of the crystal-infused water and takes a tentative sip as if expecting it to taste like rocks. 

“Why is this good? And why is this a thing?” Jody asks, pouring herself more when she’s determined she’s not being poisoned. 

“It’s  _ fancy _ ,” Donna tells her, pouring herself her own glass. 

They’re eventually led back to their massage room where two tables are set up and the soothing music that always seems to send Donna straight to sleep is playing. 

“Ever had a massage?” Donna asks as she lays down on her table. 

“A long time ago,” Jody answers. “Too long ago. I think I’m more muscle knot than person at this point.” 

“Breathe in the spa. It’s magic,” Donna grins. 

“Cheese ball,” Jody laughs, finally laying down. 

Their faces are turned toward each other while they wait for their masseurs. Jody’s eyes are captivating. Her brown eyes always seem so intense, even while she’s in a spa. Even when she’s naked, lying between the sheets. Even when she laughs. They’re not just brown either. They’re the kind of brown that have flecks and hints at other colors. Some green. Some gold maybe if the light hits it right. There’s always something to search for in those colors. Jody’s lips are pulled up into a small half-smile. The kind that still manages to reach her eyes and crinkle. 

When their masseurs come in, Donna and Jody both turn their faces down into the face hole and the second those hands set to work on her back, her eyes slide shut and she knows she’s going to sleep through the entire thing. 

Donna and Jody are in the pool, their bathing suits and sunglasses on as they drink their cocktails. Their robes and towels are thrown over two lounge chairs by the edge of the pool. The sun beams down on them. It really is a perfect day. 

“Would you like a drink, sir?” a waitress asks. Donna turns and sees Cas walking toward them. His hair is sticking up in every direction, sunglasses and a black bathing suit on and his robe his billowing around him in place of his trenchcoat. He looks strangely out of place. 

“Uhm, no,” he says as he passes them. Cas approaches their chairs and takes a moment before choosing one to sit on. 

“How was the massage, Cas?” Donna asks, leaning her elbows on the side of the pool. 

“Unpleasant. I walked out after five minutes.”

“You didn’t just walk out,” Dean says, walking over and tossing his robe onto Cas’ knees. “You threatened to smite them if they touched your back again.” He’s laughing as he says it like he almost expected it. Dean walks into the pool and dunks his head under the water. 

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” Donna says, changing the subject while Dean is underwater. Cas looks down at the script across his ribs and Dean reemerges. 

“I had to get it when I was human for protection. Dean has the same inscription on his ribs,” Cas says.

“Where?” Jody asks, looking at Dean and raising an eyebrow. 

“See? Other couples match,” Donna points out. 

“Oh, he means on my actual ribs,” Dean says. Donna remembers Cas’ sorrow, his pain that had been so real she could have reached out and touched it. He had told her about those runes when Dean had been in prison. Now, he talks about it as if it’s nothing. Dean is just as flippant and care-free. Jody splashes him, breaking up Donna’s thoughts about how relaxed Cas is with Dean around. Dean splashes back, just as content with his angel nearby. 

“Take this!” Donna says to Cas, holding her drink out of harm's way. Cas takes it quickly for her, rescuing the cosmo from the splashing. Donna joins in happily, splashing Dean in the face to his mock-horror.

“Come in the pool, Cas!” Jody calls. 

“No, thank you,” Cas says flatly, placing Donna’s drink down on the side table. 

“His feathers are ruffled,” Dean says. “Come on, sweetie. You’ll feel better.”

“I highly doubt that,” Cas says as he takes off his robe and stands up. “The pH levels appear normal and there is no cryptosporidium in the water, so I will join you before Dean forces me in, but I doubt it’s healing ability.” 

“You are so fun at parties,” Dean says, kissing him as he walks into the pool. They’re adorable together. An old married couple of years upon years of shared experiences, good and bad. 

Donna feels Jody’s arms wrap around her and she grins, wrapping her own arms around herself so she can hold Jody’s hands. “This is my best birthday,” Donna says.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Jody says into her ear before kissing her gently. “Why did he pick here?” 

“This is where I brought him for our first friendaversary,” Donna says, remembering his love confession for Cas. He’d been so sure back then that Cas would never love him like he does. Now they’re here, where Dean had first told Donna his name, and they’re laughing and kissing, their arms tangled around each other. 

“I didn’t think Dean of all people would participate in a friendaversary.” The mild shock in Jody’s voice makes Donna laugh. 

“He most certainly does! Even has an alarm on his phone! He lets go a little bit for our friendaversaries. He’s a softie and I love him,” Donna beams. They’d gone from strangers to best friends seamlessly. 

Dean’s not the only one that’s come along way since then. She remembers promising to leave her ex-husband behind so she could love herself like she deserved. She’d finally allowed herself to be done with him and his poisonous words. And now she’s here, pressed against her girlfriend, laughing in the sunshine carefree and absolutely loving herself and the three people around her. 


	31. Chapter 31

“Happy birthday,” Dean says as he and Cas walk into Donna and Jody’s room. Everyone is in their jammies and plush bathrobes. Dean is carrying a lumpy package. A gift wrapped in the comics page from a newspaper. 

“Thanks!” She takes the present from him and closes the door behind Cas. Jody is on the phone ordering room service dinner as everyone piles onto the bed. “Can I open it now?”

“Go ahead,” Dean says. “Your birthday. I don’t know why you’d ask me.” 

She lets out an excited squeal as she rips away the paper. She pulls out a black hoodie with white cursive letters that say  _ You Betcha! _

“So you like it?” Dean asks.

Donna flips the hoodie over to display the message as she grins. “Oh yeah! You betcha!” She hugs it to herself before dropping it and hugging Dean. “I love it!” 

“I got three steaks with mashed potatoes and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Jody announces as she joins them on the bed. Cas had asked for one when Jody was taking orders on their way back to their rooms after the spa. 

“It’s a special occasion,” he’d explained. 

There’s a small chorus of thanks before Donna shows off her new sweater. Jody snorts out a laugh when she sees it. “The only thing that would make it more you would be glitter.” Donna gasps and looks at it again. “Don’t put glitter on it!” Jody says quickly.

“I’m puttin’ glitter on it,” Donna grins. 

“I brought you a gift as well,” Cas says when Donna gets up to put her new sweater in her suitcase. She goes back to the bed and Cas tells her to close her eyes. She feels him delicately place a flower into her hair. She opens her eyes and grins. 

“Thank you,” she beams, voguing so show it off. 

“I tried to learn how to make a flower crown,” Cas admits. Dean makes a face. “Dean wasn’t a willing model.”

“It fell apart and I was just covered in flowers,” Dean explains. “While I was driving.” 

Jody and Donna laugh at the same time, picturing Dean trying to drive while being covered in flowers by Cas. The flower in her hair probably means little to Dean or Jody, but Donna remembers the precious moment in the park when Dean had been missing. She’d never told Jody about that day and something told her that it hadn’t come up in conversation between Dean and Cas. 

“Thank you! I love them! I will cherish them forever!” she declares.

“The flower will deteriorate as time wears on most likely,” Cas warns her. Everyone laughs. 

When there’s a knock on the door, Dean hops up to go get the food. Cas watches him warily but doesn’t say anything. 

“Cas?” Jody asks. He looks away from the door and back over to Jody and Donna. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t trust delivery workers,” Cas states flatly. 

“Not this again,” Dean groans as he walks back into the room with their food. He passes out the food and takes his seat next to Cas again. “They really don’t need to know this. Like  _ really _ don’t need to know.”

“Now I  _ have _ to hear this,” Jody says wickedly. Donna giggles as she watches Dean drag a hand down his face. 

“The first and only pornographic film I had ever watched depicted a pizza delivery man and a babysitter. She did not have sufficient funds to pay him for the food.” Cas sighs deeply like what he’d seen in the only porno he’d ever watched was enough to scar him for life. “Dean still hasn’t explained to me why he was spanking her rear.” Donna doubles over laughing awhile Jody howls. Dean shakes his head while chuckling softly. 

“When did you ever show him porn?” Jody asks, wheezing as she tries to hold back. 

“I didn’t! I don’t know how he found it!” Dean shakes his head at Cas. “He’s missing the best part of the story though. I tell him he’s not supposed to watch porn in a room full of dudes and not to talk about it. Then Grandpa walks in and asks if all we do is sit around and watch porn with angels and Cas, in all his glory, informs him that we aren’t supposed to talk about it.”

“You had literally just informed me that we don’t talk about it,” Cas says. 

“I am dyin’,” Donna laughs, tears dotting the corner of her eyes. She wipes them away, still laughing. “How am I supposed to eat when I’m laughin’ so hard?” 

Dean digs into his steak as if in demonstration. Cas picks up his sandwich and takes it in, analyzing the grape jelly that’s perfectly portioned to the peanut butter. He is the last one to take a bite. It’s hard not to watch him as he chews slowly. She remembers him saying that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were his favorite part of being human. 

“How is it?” Jody asks because she’s the only one that doesn’t know that it probably tastes awful to him. 

“Molecular and perfectly composed. I can taste the machines the peanut butter was made on, which were cleaned thoroughly. The ratio of sugar and pectin to the grape juice is noticeably uniform. I just wish I could taste the flavors and not the process.” He takes another bite. Donna and Jody exchange a look, but Dean seems unphased. 

“Happy birthday to you,” everyone sings in unison. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Donnaaaaaa! Happy birthday to you!” Donna inhales dramatically before blowing out the single candle in the center of the cake. 

She wishes for more times like these. Times surrounded by the ones she loves. She wishes for more kisses from Jody. More flowers from Cas. More brotherly bear hugs from Dean. She wishes for the sound of their laughter to continue to light up her life. She wishes for this. 

“Fuck plates,” Dean says, passing forks to Jody and Donna. “After you.” He nods to Donna. She takes the first ceremonious bite before Dean and Jody join her. 

“How could this get any better?” Donna asks. “This is amazin’. Thank you, guys.”

“This can get better. Wanna play Twenty Questions?” Dean asks. Donna nods as Dean looks to Cas. “Okay. Don’t tell us but pick a person, place, or thing for us to guess.” 

“A noun, Dean. It’s called a noun. Alright.” Cas says, sitting up straighter which Donna hadn’t even thought possible. 

“I know that it’s a noun,” Dean sighs. Donna giggles. “Is it a thing?” 

“Yes,” Cas says with a single nod. 

“Is it bigger than a breadbox?” Jody asks. Cas considers this, his eyebrows furrowing together. 

“It can be in certain situations, but the size doesn’t particularly matter.” 

Size doesn’t matter and it’s definitely a thing. Donna hums. “Is it a common household object?”

“I suppose, yes. It is incredibly common to have one. I have only met a few people without one in their possession,” Cas says. 

“If size doesn’t matter, it has to be a dick,” Dean says jokingly. Cas shakes it head. “That doesn’t count as a question,” Dean says quickly. “Does it use electricity?”

“It uses power, but I’m not sure if I would qualify it as electricity,” Cas says evenly. His facial expressions give nothing away. This game is hard enough as it is without the world’s best poker face. 

“So it has power. Does it produce light?” Jody asks. 

“Intensely, but that isn’t the main function.”

“Do ya need to plug it in?” She tries running through items in her house that use power and the size doesn’t really matter. There’s the obvious but she doubts Cas would think of a vibrator for a game question. Cas shakes his head and looks to Dean for the next question. 

“Do I have one?” 

“Yes and I cherish it,” Cas says which only makes Dean screw up his face in confusion. “Jody?”

“I’m thinking,” she huffs. “Is it expensive? Luxury item?” 

“It is luxurious but priceless,” Cas says. His eyes land on Donna. Dean was right. His eyes are super intense especially right now. He seems to love this game. 

“Okee dokee,” she sighs. “I can’t think of a single doohickey like this.” She thinks for a moment, running through things Dean might own that Cas could think is in every household. “Oh! Can it hold anything inside of it?”  
“Definitely not.”

“Tootsie pops!” Donna swears. 

“You know that’s not real swearing, right?” Dean laughs. 

“That’s why I can say it,” she says, sticking her tongue out. “I swore for you once.”

“You swore for him but you won’t for me?” Jody jumps in. 

“It was one time!”

“One hell of a time. She did the whole George Carlin bit!” Dean throws her under the bus. Jody gasps. “Is it something someone can borrow?” he asks Cas. 

“This can’t be lent or borrowed, but it can be stolen or destroyed.” His answers are all cryptic and incredibly confusing. It’s like he’s speaking in riddles. 

“I was going to say it could be a battery, but you can borrow those,” Jody says. Good point. Almost everything can be borrowed. It narrows down the list quite a bit and yet it’s still unhelpful. “Is it a really fancy keyring?”

“No,” Cas says. There’s a hint of a smile. 

“Can I get a hint?” Donna asks. “It can count as my question?” 

“It’s cheating, but you’re the birthday girl so sure. Give us a hint, Cas,” Dean declares. 

“All three of you are in possession of one,” Cas says as if this helps at all. 

“Is it an actual object?” Dean asks, clearly more confused by the compiled list of hints. 

“I would consider it semi-tangible,” Cas shrugs. What the pancake flipper does that even mean? 

“We have it but do you?” Jody asks before Dean can start swearing. Cas shakes his head.

“I have no need for it as an angel.” 

“Ha! Human hint!” Donna shouts. Everyone sighs with relief until they realize they still have no idea what Cas is trying to describe. “Industrial style lightbox?” 

“What? No.” 

“A soul,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. 

“Yes,” Cas says with a small smile. It’s weird to think about. People don’t really think of souls as things. To some people, there’s debate on whether they even exist. To Cas, a literal angel, it’s a semi-tangible, powerful, intensely bright thing. 

“Are industrial lightboxes only semi-tangible to you, Donna?” Dean asks teasingly. She throws a pillow at him. 

It’s after Dean and Cas go to their room that Donna and Jody finally snuggle down into their king-sized bed. Donna curls up against her with her head resting on her chest as Jody plays with her hair. 

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Donna asks quietly. There’s music playing softly from Donna’s phone on the side table. It’s nice to just relax like this. 

“It was really good to meet Cas in person finally,” Jody says after a pause. “I don’t know what I was expecting between what Sam and Dean have told me and what little Claire has let on. He’s a lot taller than I thought he would be.”

“Oh my god, right? Dean talks about him like he might be my height, but he’s like six foot!” Jody laughs with her for a moment before they settle again and she starts drawing invisible shapes onto Donna’s arm.

“He said he was glad to finally meet me in person when we met up before getting to your house. He said something about how he was glad Claire had me. The way she talks about him, I guess I didn't expect it.” Jody sighs. “It’s your day.”

“I want to hear it,” Donna tells her, wrapping her arms tighter. She knows that Claire’s relationship with Cas is complicated. No one has ever really gone into detail why. Donna never broached the subject with Claire herself because she didn’t want to open a can of worms if it was going to cut her. “Who is Cas to her?”

“Cas’ vessel was her dad,” Jody says. “She used to have nightmares about the night Cas showed up, but she doesn’t anymore. She said only a little about the night she’d said yes to Cas to try to save her dad, but she says she doesn’t remember actually being possessed. I know she was homeless for awhile. I know she resented him for a long time.” 

“Have they talked?” Donna lifts her head to look at Jody. 

“Yeah. They have. He got her a birthday present at some point.” She smiles a little. “It’s the only thing that Claire will not leave behind when she goes off for months. She has a weird Grumpy Cat plushy thing that she takes literally everywhere. She’ll leave behind her whole wardrobe, but that cat? That cat is ridin’ shotgun.” 

“It sounds like she’s forgiven him.” 

Jody nods and Donna rests her head on her chest again. “I knew he had to be something though. You know? He makes Dean so happy. I’ve never seen him like this and I’ve known those boys for so long.” 

“Are you glad you met him?” 

“Yeah. Bout damn time.” She kisses the top of Donna’s head and rubs her shoulder before pausing. “Wait. How did you meet Cas the first time? I knew you met but you never said how.” 

“He came to my house when Sam and Dean were in jail for tryin’ to kill the President.” When did she become the type of person who could casually say these types of things? Part of her wants to squeal with delight. She really sounds like a hunter now. She feels like she’s hit the big leagues. 

“Remember when you didn’t know about any of this?” Jody asks with a small disbelieving laugh. “Holy shit.”

“Holy cow.” 

“Holy fuck,” Jody laughs. 

“Holy moly, guacamole,” Donna giggles before Jody starts to tickle her and they devolve into shrieking laughter that only quiets when Jody pins her to the bed and kisses her. 


	32. Chapter 32

“So get this,” Sam says as he enters the room as he so often does. Dean closes the book he had been reading and looks up at his brother who is too into whatever he just found to worry about what Dean was reading. Sam and Cas have been busy trying to figure out ways to get Jack’s soul restored while Dean was secretly up to his eyes trying to find a way to kill the keeper of the Empty.

“That’s great and all, but we have exactly none of those things,” Dean says, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t even think we’ve heard of half of those ingredients.”

“There’s another way that seems like less of a spell, more of a place. Like the Garden of Eden maybe? I can’t tell. Nothing really says… It’s called the Occultum..”

“What the fuck is that?” Dean asks. 

“I don’t know, but we can start trying to figure that out. It’s a step.” He can. He and Cas and Jack can try to find out what Occultum even means. Dean is busy. He’s finally gotten to a book that has told him that he can’t kill the Shadow, but he can trap it. “What’re you reading?”

“There’s nothin’ in here,” Dean sighs, pretending that he was off-base with his search. Sam nods, taking his seat opposite Dean. 

“Where’s Cas?” 

“He and the kid went to get pie.” They’d actually gone to go grocery shopping, but it’s clear what item is the most important. “Should be home soon.” 

“So grocery shopping,” Sam says with a small smile. Dean nods and slouches lower in his seat. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Mm.” Dean nods.

“How did Donna get past the no friends rule?” 

“By accident,” he says honestly. “Like all of our friends. Accidentally.” This year’s friendaversary is all planned. After her birthday, they had planned a trip. He was going to take her on a road trip. All he knew was that he was driving and she was going to lead him somewhere. She told him it would take longer than a day. That’s all he knew and he didn’t ask questions. 

“I mean, I’m glad she came along, and she’s great… I just didn’t think I’d see the day you started celebrating  _ friendaversaries _ and actually doing birthday parties. The last birthday party I think you went to was Ben’s.” Thanks for the knife in the heart, Sammy. Dean frowns and nods again. 

“I don’t know. She makes having friends not seem like the curse it used to be.” Dean gets up and puts his book back on the shelf so Sam won’t be able to tell which one he’d been looking through. “Anyway, what’s goin’ on with Rowena? I mean, I like her, but you seem to  _ really _ like her.” 

“Shut up. It’s not like that.” Sam is a nice shade of crimson now. He runs a hand through his hair. Dean laughs. “Really. It’s not.”

“Uh-huh. Say no more. How early did you start the bet on Cas and I? When should I put together a pool on you two?” 

“It’s not like that!” Sam insists, getting up to follow Dean into the kitchen. “And I don’t remember. It started as a joke with Bobby when he asked when you two would stop staring at each other and get it over with.”

“When the fuck was this?” Dean asks, turning around to stare at Sam incredulously. 

“Some point before I went to Hell. That Valentine’s Day was murder. With you two in the same room someone could have cut the tension with a knife.” 

“We’re not talking about this. We were talking about  _ you _ ,” Dean reminds him. He grabs the lasagna noodles from the cupboard and starts working on dinner. “Grab me a beer, will ya?” 

“Yeah.” Sam opens two beers and passes him one before going to sit at the table. 

“So…” Dean leans against the counter and takes a sip of his beer as he waits for the water to boil. “You gonna ask her out?” 

“Shut up,” Sam says even as he smiles. Dean can’t help but laugh. 

After dinner, Dean goes to his Dean Cave. He has his grief journal open on his lap as he writes. Scooby Doo is playing in the background, the Scooby Gang keeping him company. They’re about to find out that their ghost was really just the stand-offish reporter the whole time. What a twist! 

Two knocks at the door make Dean look up. Cas steps in and closes the door again behind him. Dean lefts his legs for Cas to take the spot on the couch under them. They fit together perfectly. He’s more comfortable than he had been two minutes ago. 

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Nothing.” Cas rests his hands on Dean’s legs before grabbing one of his socked feet to give him a foot massage. “I just wanted to be with you.” 

“Welcome to the party. New episode with your best friend is on in a few minutes.” Dean looks back down at his journal and keeps writing. Cas watches Scooby Doo quietly while he works the tension from Dean’s tired feet. 

“We should get a dog,” Cas says when Dean closes his journal. 

“What?” Dean shakes his head. “We already have a Sam and a snake. We don’t need a dog.” 

“We could get a Great Dane and name him Scooby Doo,” Cas offers. It’s tempting. Dean narrows his eyes. “It could be good for you. Humans bond with animals and it’s proven to increase oxytocin levels in both dogs and humans. Depression and anxiety levels decrease or can be aided by a canine companion. Your post traumatic stress would benefit greatly.”

“I don’t have any of those things,” Dean says. Cas gives him a look. “We can’t just get a dog. He would be sad locked up here all the time.”

“Some dogs enjoy car rides as much as you do,” Cas points out. 

“Why do you want a dog?” 

“I was thinking,” Cas says slowly. 

“I warned you about that.” Dean laughs at his own dumb joke and is rewarded with a small smile across Cas’ lips. 

“There are many reasons a dog would be beneficial to you specifically and I said those already.” Dean nods. Depression, anxiety, PTSD. “I was also reading about human relationships. Couples who have been living together for multiple years often start strengthening their bond by sharing ownership of a pet. It also often leads to lower stress levels for the couple.”

“You’re for real, then? You want to get a dog?” It’s the first time Dean has considered it. He’s always shut down having pets. Or friends. But Cas wants a dog. Cas thinks a dog could help him. And Dean has a soft spot for Cas. “I’ll think about it,” he promises. Cas nods and returns his attention to the tv. 

“And you love Scooby Doo.”

“He’s a national fucking treasure, Cas. Who doesn’t love Scooby?” 

It’s not hard for Dean to slip into a daydream as he stares at Cas’ profile. It’s not hard at all to imagine them driving in the Impala with a big dog in the backseat, head out the window. A puppy with paws that are comically too big romping around Cas’ garden of flowers and bees. Dean melting down and holding onto his angel while his dog presses against him, grounding him. Dean washing Baby and the horse-sized dog at the same time, spraying the hose and laughing over the music. He could see a future like that with Cas. 

When the next knock at the door comes, Dean blinks the sleep from his eyes. He’s naked on the floor with Cas with the trenchcoat under his head and no concept of what time it is. 

“Go away,” Dean calls, rolling over and shoving his face into Cas’ chest. 

“We should probably get dressed,” Cas says softly. 

“Gross. No.” Dean presses kisses into Cas’ skin, ready to have him for breakfast. Dean runs his hand over Cas, his mouth still occupied with the top half. “Oh! Good morning, Sunshine!” 

“Good morning,” Cas says a little breathlessly. 

“Oh my god,” Sam’s voice says from the doorway. The door slams shut again. “You have a room!” he yells. 

“I said go away!” Dean yells back before Cas pulls him down again, their lips colliding. 

What Sam had been trying to tell them was that he had found a salt’n’burn case. Family of four packed into the car, they drive awhile Sam details the case for them. It feels good to go back to a normal hunt after everything. Dean rolls his window down and lets his arm rest there, the wind whipping past him as he speeds. 

“So get this,” Sam says. If Dean had turned his brother’s catchphrase into a drinking game, he’d be dead and Dean can hold his liquor. “Are you listening?”

“No. I tune out when you say  _ so get this _ ,” Dean says even though he heard every word. Haunted gym with a body count. Some guy was lifting weights of a normal amount when he told tabloids that the dumbbells had more than tripled in weight and his legs had snapped under him. He wasn’t the first this had happened to, but he was the only one who lived. 

The drive isn’t long. Everyone changes into their fed suits and split up. Dean and Cas head to the hospital while Sam and Jack go to the gym. Jack has come a long way since his first hunt. He has all his badges and doesn’t hold them upside down like some people. 

“What’s wrong?” Dean whispers to Cas as they walk into the hospital. 

“It’s never easy being so close to people I could heal so easily if I had enough grace,” Cas whispers back. Dean nods. Hindsight, they should have gone to the gym instead but they’re here now. He straightens his tie and when his hands return to his sides he almost grabs Cas’ hand. 

“It’ll get better,” Dean says though he’s not sure it’s true. Jack and the remaining angels seemed to be doing well enough, but it’s almost like Heaven had cut Cas off. Cas just nods, probably thinking along the same lines. They leave that conversation in the hallway as they enter Mr. Peter’s room, reaching for their badges in sync. 

Sam knocks on Dean and Cas’ motel room door. His room that he shares with Jack is just one room over. Cas lets them in and the smell of pizza arrives with them. 

“Meat lovers?” Dean asks, sitting up and turning off the Dr. Sexy episode he and Cas had shamelessly been watching. It’s one he’s seen a million times. Dr. Wang’s love triangle gets resolved when she finally chooses the head surgeon over the nurse. 

“Course,” Sam says. “And beer.”

“Cheers.” Dean raises his and they clink their bottles before they both take swigs. “So, we headed to the cemetery tonight?” 

“Yeah.” Sam starts in on the details. Names and dates and locations. Easy case that leaves them in this town for just barely over twenty-four hours. Not even twenty-four. They don’t bother staying the night, packing up the car near four in the morning and checking out early. 

Dean looks up into the rearview mirror. Sam’s head is titled back, his mouth open as he snores. Jack is next to him, staring out the window intently as if he’s counting the stars. Cas is beside Dean, his hand on Dean’s knee. 

“Okay, okay,” Dean laughs. He grabs Cas’ hand and points it up at the sky. “What about that one?” They’re lying in the grass outside of the barn that’s up the road from the bunker. Sam went to bed an hour ago. Jack is doing some kind of bonding ritual with Felix. Dean hadn’t asked many questions after he said it had to do with the snake. He had also promised to work on practicing scrying to the Empty to see if he could eventually lead Dean there to trap the Shadow.

“Cygnus? You know that story,” Cas says, tracing it out with Dean’s finger. 

“No.” He drags Cas’ hand across the sky, trailing their fingers through the stars. “That one.” 

“Stephan’s Quintet.” Cas moves closer to Dean so they’re pressed together. “Four galaxies, not stars. Two of the galaxies have begun to merge, so soon it will be three, though I doubt the name will change. Humans do grow attached to names.”

“So do angels,” Dean counters. Cas turns his head so they’re looking at each other in the dark. He squints, asking Dean to find one example of such an instance. “Hello, Dean,” Dean says, pitching his voice lower to imitate Cas. 

“Cas,” he answers, his eyes unwavering. Dean kisses him gently before looking back up at the sky. 

“I didn’t care about this kind of stuff, you know,” Dean says after a few moments. “They used to be just stars.”

“I have watched stars be born and others die. I know how far away they are and most of the legends that humans have passed through their generations. Some of the legends hold some truth, but I don’t believe many people think of them as historical recollections and retellings. I realized this when I met you and was informed of just how little humans know about the gods and creatures that walk among them.”

“Do you like the stars?”

“They remind me of what was once home,” Cas says thoughtfully. “They also remind me of your freckles. So, yes. I like the stars. They remind me of homes, old and new.” 

“God, you’re a sap.” Dean can feel himself blushing as he says it. 

Dean wakes up slowly. He rubs the sleep from his eyes before he realizes the light is on. Cas is sitting up with a book open on his lap. Dean feels his heart plummet. Cas’ face is unreadable, but Dean knows exactly what book he’s reading. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean says quickly, no hint of sleep left in him as his adrenaline surges. 

“Then what is it?” Cas asks too calmly. He drops the book into Dean’s arms and fixes him with a look. His eyes are furious and sad at the same time. His lips are pressed together in a hard line. His jaw is set, clenched as if to keep him from saying anything more. Dean blanches, opening his mouth to answer but finding nothing to say. There are no words that leap into his mouth to fix this. “You’re trying to get yourself killed.”

“No. I’m trying to stop you from getting killed,” Dean snaps back. “Last time I checked,  _ you _ made the deal with the Shadow. Last time I checked,  _ you _ were the one with the death wish.” 

“I don’t want to die. I wanted our son to live.”

“You just want to be miserable while you live? Is that better?” Dean slams the book shut and puts it on the side table. “No. I’m going to get you out of this deal. Either that fucking monster of a guard dog in angel heaven is going to let you go or so help me, I will find a way to trap his sorry ass because I can’t actually gank the thing.”

“You can’t just kill the Shadow.”

“I killed Death and I killed Eve. I can sure as hell try to kill the Shadow too.” Dean runs a hand through his hair, frustration running rampant through him. “I love that you learned how to be a dick about sticking to your promises from me. I really do. But practically selling your soul to the Empty? Really?”

“All angels are dicks, right?” Cas says, his eyes narrowing. 

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Dean rubs his temples before taking a deep breath. “If I sold my soul right now to get Jack’s soul back, would you be mad at me? Would you do anything you could to get me out of it?”

“This is different, Dean!” Even angry and yelling at each other Dean couldn’t be more in love with him. It makes him angrier. 

“It’s really fucking not! I don’t want to live without you! So, fuck yes I’m going to try to get you out of this dumbass deal, Cas!” 

“Dean!”

“What?”

They stare at each other for a moment, the room suddenly silent as they breathe. Dean’s eyes bounce between Cas’, too riled up to land on one to focus on. He loves him and that’s why this hurts so much. He loves him and that’s exactly why he has to do this. 

“I am not miserable,” he says softly, his hand finding Dean’s. 

“I still have to do this.” He’s lowered his voice, but the bite is still there. The dare to tell him not to. “You’re an idiot.”

“You’re the biggest idiot I know,” Cas says flatly. “So I suppose I learned from the best.” Dean nods, biting his cheek, coming down from a boil to a light simmer. “You have to stop this. It isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

“It has to. Either I kill it, trap it, or die trying and frankly, I’m okay with that.” 

“I’m not.” 

“I wasn’t okay with you making the deal in the first place, so I guess we’re even.” He huffs and gets out of bed, tossing the blankets angrily. Cas sighs and gets out of the bed, reaching for his suit and coat. Cas takes the book with him as he leaves the room and Dean rests his forehead against the wall, willing himself not to just hit his head against it. It’s not like he had been anywhere close to being able to trap the Shadow. He had more to do, but now that Cas knew about it… He hits the wall and turns back to the bed, pulling the sheets so tight a quarter could be bounced off of it. 

He takes a quick shower and changes before he walks through the bunker to find Cas. He’s not in the kitchen where Sam is having a cup of coffee while he reads the news on his iPad. He’s not in the library, war room, armory, med bay, or his old bedroom. Dean grabs a jacket and heads outside. He heads into the forest behind the bunker. 

Cas is sitting right where Dean thought he would be. There’s a small clearing between some trees where wildflowers grow. There aren’t any bees at this time of year, but Cas still comes here to think. Dean leans against a tree and watches Cas run his finger over the petal of a purple flower. It’s the gentlest of touches. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean says. Cas doesn’t move. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you and I’m sorry that I have to keep trying even though it hurts.” His shoulders slump and he nods slowly. 

“I have been watching flowers evolve for one-hundred and forty million years.” He sounds tired. He always has the weirdest things to say when he’s done having certain conversations. Dean steps forward and sits next to Cas. 

“Pollen makes me sneeze,” Dean offers when Cas doesn’t continue. 

“Cat dander makes you sneeze.” He glances over at Dean affectionately. How talking about Dean’s allergies makes Cas happy, Dean will never know. He laughs a little and takes Cas’ hand. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry to have caused you pain.” Dean shakes his head, batting the apology away. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore either. 

“Sam is already lookin’ for a new case. I guess he’s lookin’ for some normal after the year we’ve had.” It feels heavy and farfetched that everything with Michael lasted almost a full year. They’re finally able to breathe and move on. Aside from Sam searching for a way to restore Jack’s fragment of a soul and Dean trying to nix the deal Cas has with the Empty, things have been calm for the first time in a year. 

“I don’t think Jack should go this time. We still need to try to find the Occultum, whatever it is, and I’m afraid we aren’t making much progress.” Cas sighs. “I will admit, I am a little drained without my grace restoring like it used to.”

“You’ll recharge.” It’s worrisome, but if Cas can handle it then Dean can. “You and Jack can sit this one out. Whatever hunt Sammy finds we can go oldschool with.” Cas nods and they fall into a comfortable silence just sitting in the woods. 

“I am not eating this,” Dean says as Sam puts a salad in the middle of the table. 

“Can I have cereal?” Jack asks.

“There’s leftover pizza in the fridge,” Cas offers Dean.

“Guys!” Sam looks fed up. Everyone looks at him. “It’s just a salad. Just try it.”

“Not happening.” Dean gets up as Sam sighs, his exasperation clear. There is no way Dean is eating that. He grabs the Crunch Cookie Crunch cereal and throws it to Jack before opening the fridge and grabbing the pizza he would have eaten earlier if he’d bothered to look in the fridge. 

“Really guys?” Dean makes a face and Jack laughs before Sam shoots him a look. “Have you heard of taking care of yourself? Putting good things in your body?” Dean chokes, laughing at the obvious sex joke as he looks at Cas. “Gross. Get out of here!”

“You said it,” Dean laughs. “Anyway. You know how I feel about that. If bacon or pizza kills me then I win.” He takes a bite of the cold pizza with more vigor than necessary. Cas takes a sip of Dean’s beer.

“If ketchup is a vegetable, then surely tomato sauce is too?” Cas asks innocently. 

“Amen,” Dean says, raising his pizza slice in cheers. 

“Who told him that? Dean?” His glare is accusatory but Dean just shakes his head. 

“Claire. Why?”

Sam starts trying to undo Claire’s teachings as Dean’s phone starts to buzz in his pocket. He digs it out and Donna’s picture of their drunk selves covered in powdered sugar pops up on the screen. “Hey, Donna. What’s shakin’?”

“I can’t do anythin’ right today!” She’s crying. He gets up from the table with his pizza but leaves his beer with Cas as he walks out of the kitchen. “My alarm didn’t go off this mornin’ and my toast burned. I was almost late for work and I had a nightmare last night and I spilled coffee on my keyboard earlier and I just wanted to go to the movies but my car won’t start and… and…” 

“Okay. Alright. We can fix whatever this is,” Dean promises as he starts walking toward the garage. “Take a deep breath.”

He listens to her inhale slowly with a longer exhale. “Am I interruptin’? I probably am. I should let you go.”

“No. I’m here. I’m right here and I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he promises. “Should we fix your car before everything else?” 

“I don’t know how. I can call AAA.” She sniffles.

“Don’t call AAA. We can do this. I know cars.” He takes a bite of the pizza and leans against Baby’s hood. “What does it do when you try to start the car?” 

“It makes a bad noise. The battery isn’t dead. I know how to deal with that.” She pauses. “Do I make the noise?”

“Go for it.” The noise she makes is enough to make him regret it, but at least he knows what’s wrong with the car. He holds the phone away from his ear and stares at it in surprise. “Heard you loud and clear!” It makes her laugh. Perfect. 

He finishes his pizza slice while he tells her what tools to grab from her garage. She’s pretty handy with other things so she really shouldn’t have a problem with this. He hopes he’s good enough with instructions to get her car working. 

While he guides her through her car issues, he changes Baby’s oil with his phone between his shoulder and his ear. He thinks he hears someone come out to check on him at some point but he’s too busy and by the time he rolls out from under his car, they’re gone. 

“Okay, go try to start her up,” Dean says, wiping his hands on a rag. 

“Sure this’ll work?” she asks. The tears are long forgotten, too concentrated to remember to be that upset. “Here goes nothin’.” He hears the car start just before she lets out a celebratory woop. 

“Fuck yeah!” Dean grins and throws the rag in the air. “Goin’ to that movie now?”

“No… I missed it, but I’m feelin’ like this is better anyway.” He smiles and gets up, going to the sink to wash his hands before he heads inside. 

“What else can I help fix?” he asks. “I don’t think I can rewind time to unspill the coffee or save the toast, but I’m here. Hit me with your best shot.” 

“The nightmare is the only one, but I don’t wanna talk about it. Lots’a drama. Worst fears. That kinda stuff. Titanic is on right now though.” 

“On my way,” he says as he goes to the Dean Cave and turns on the tv. He scrolls through the channels until he lands on Titanic. It’s still the beginning. They missed the part with her comically large hat, but Jack still hasn’t met her. “I know a guy who unsank the Titanic,” Dean says as he pulls a blanket over his lap and slouches into the couch. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Exactly what I said. He was fed up with the s ong—”

“My Heart Will Go On?”

“That’s the one.” Dean nods. “He was just fuckin’ done, right? So he just unsank it. It was a weird fuckin’ day. Fate was all kinds of pissed. People who weren’t supposed to be alive were dying left and right because Fate was evening the scales. So we had to get him to go resink the Titanic.”

“I don’t know who’s the monster here,” she says with a smile in her voice. “How do you just _know a guy_ who unsank the Titanic?”  
“He’s Cas’ brother, Balthazar.” Was. He frowns for a moment and swallows down the past. “He tried telling me that Cas was in love with me. That was a _long_ time ago.”

“Oh, another person who isn’t as blind as you,” Donna gasps. “I didn’t know Cas had siblings.”

“I mean. All the angels call each other brother and sister.” It’s a little weird, but it also makes sense. Of all the angels, he would say Balthazar was the only one Dean would consider brotherly to Cas. “His family is basically a bunch of kids who have a deadbeat dad that only a handful have even ever met. Their aunt is insane but she seems to care more than her brother. Some of the kids have funny feelings for each other. Others are so against feelings they torture the others. It’s always fun when we have family reunions.”

“Did you just have a stroke? Do you smell toast?” She’s laughing and he joins. “What are you marryin’ into?”

“He hasn’t said yes yet because I haven’t asked yet so keep your mouth shut,” Dean says, glancing up at the door. He turns the ring on his finger. He’s going to ask soon. Once he takes care of the Empty, he will get down on one knee and tell Cas just how much he means to him. 

“Why do you bother tellin’ me you’re gonna ask and then not ask?” She groans. “I’m not gonna be able to talk to him until you do.”

“He won’t suspect anything if you just stop talking to him,” Dean says sarcastically. “Oh, I love this scene!” They both get quiet as Rose runs across the deck to go be saved by Jack. 

“Thanks for bein’ here,” Donna says quietly when Jack pulls Rose back over the railing. 

“I’ll always be here.”

She falls asleep before the ship sinks. He hears her snore just a little and smiles before whispering, “Night, Donna.” He hangs up and tosses the phone onto his lap. Cas walks in just as the first chunk of ice hits the deck. 

“What are you watching?” he asks as he takes a seat next to Dean who readjusts until his head is in Cas’ lap. 

“Titanic. You came at the worst possible moment. Rose just got drawn like one of his french girls and they fucked in the car already.”

“Like us?” Dean laughs, trying to tell Cas no, but no words come out. “Dean?”

“Sure, Cas,” he sighs when he finally stops laughing. “You have to stop saying things like that.”

“Isn’t that the ship that Balthazar unsank?” Cas asks when it pans out to show the full ship. Dean nods. “So this is the movie he despised.”

“He didn’t hate the movie. No one can hate this movie. He hated the song.” Cas’ fingers run through Dean’s hair slowly. 

“Is Donna alright?”

“She had a bad day. I walked her through a simple car repair. It’s kinda nice to have problems I can fix, ya know?” Dean sighs. “Got her to laugh though. She fell asleep.”

“I’m glad she’s resting. Sam found a case.” Dean looks up at him. His eyes are beautiful as ever as he looks down into Dean’s face. “Vampires in Wisconsin. Sam asked me to tell you to be ready in the morning.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“Alright, we’re packed,” Dean says as he hoists his duffel over his shoulder. “We shouldn’t be gone long. Sam already knows where the nest is. We just need to have a quick chat with them about not killing the locals and get out.”

“Have a good hunt, sweetie,” Cas says, kissing him briefly. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Yep. Two-ish days, I’m guessin’. Love you.” Dean pulls Cas back to him for another lingering kiss. He smiles when he lets go and readjusts the bag on his shoulder before walking out to the garage and tossing his bag in the back. “Sammy!”

“I’m right here. Let’s go.” He hops into the passenger seat and it’s just like it used to be. A two brother hunt on a case that would have sent their younger selves reeling. Dean pushes a Metallica tape in to start the drive and cranks the volume that Sam immediately turns down. 

“Live a little, Sammy!” Dean says but his brother just rolls his eyes. When Sam doesn’t answer, Dean turns the knob again and starts tapping out the beat to Enter Sandman on the wheel. Sam makes a face before giving in.

“Say your prayers, little one,” Sam sings reluctantly. He can’t hide how much he loves these drives. He may complain endlessly, but Dean knows the truth. He grins and bobs his head to the music. 

It’s three in the morning when Sam and Dean’s motel room fills with music. “ _ I’m walkin’ on sunshine! Whoa! I’m walkin’ on sunshine! Whoa! I’m walkin’ on sunshine! Whoa! And don’t it feel goo _ —”

“Donna?” Dean answers, rubbing his eyes as he picks up the phone. 

“I goofed up, Dean!” The panic in her voice wakes him up instantly like cold water being dumped on him. He sits up and throws a pillow at Sam. “I think I went to the wrong nest or maybe I just got the creepy crawly wrong, but there’s too many.”

“Okay. Tell me where you are and we’ll be there soon.” He throws another pillow at Sam. “Get your ass up!” 

“I texted you the address,” she says at the same time as his phone buzzes. 

“We’ll be there soon. Stay safe. Get outta there if you can. You hear me?”

“Dean?” He pauses, his pants halfway up his legs. “I’m scared. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. You’ve got this and I’ll be there before you know it.” 

“Thanks.” 

“You got it, little sis.” He hangs up and finishes yanking his pants up before grabbing his boots and pulling them on hastily as he walks toward the door. Sam is right behind him, no protests as they leave their sleep behind and get into the car. 

Their vamp hunt from the night before hadn’t been far from Minnesota. They’re closer now than if they had been at the bunker when she called. Small miracles. Dean puts his weight into the gas pedal, pressing it to the floor as the speedometer climbs. 

Sam has the address she sent in his navigation system. It’s good it’s so early. Barely anyone is out driving. Only the few sad sacks that have their commutes to make it to jobs that start too early. And hunters who are on their way to help a friend. 

When they pull up outside of the building, there’s no real sign that there’s any kind of fight going on inside, but Donna’s truck is parked off to the side. “What’re we walking into?” Sam asks.

“She doesn’t know,” Dean answers, checking his gun. He puts extra bullets in his pocket for reload. “Guns blazing. If it doesn't work, we need to just get her the hell out.” Sam nods. He has holy water and a few other talismans stuffed into his pockets as he checks his own gun.

Dean grabs the extra gun from the glove box and shoves it into his waistband as he takes his favorite gun’s safety off. He gets out of the car as fast as he can, ready to kill every son of a bitch that has Donna cornered. They’re running into the building, checking their corners as always, their training never forgotten even in the heat of the moment. 

“Donna!” Dean yells.

“Dean!” she calls back. He motions to Sam, running through the warehouse toward her voice until he finds her. He’s never seen whatever the fuck these things are but there’s no time to start trying to put a name to them. 

“Do you have a weapon?” Dean calls down to her as Sam runs down the stairs into the horde of monsters. Donna lifts her machete and he nods. She slices through the neck of one and it goes down easily enough. Her gun must be out of ammo. Dean hears Sam take two shots. 

It always seems like it’s going to be easier than it is. Walk in. Shoot some evil motherfuckers. Get out. Dean is too high up to use this vantage point and they hadn’t had enough time to pack the guns he would need to pick off the horde from up here so he takes the stairs down two at a time. 

He elbows one in the face and shoots another as he enters the playground. From up top, he’d counted over twenty of these things in the room. They seem easy enough to kill, but their blood sizzles on the ground, eating at the concrete. Their fanged teeth could rip any of them apart and might be venomous. He doesn’t want to find out. They are also super strong. He finds this out as he’s thrown into a wall. 

“Oh, fuck you, buddy!” Dean yells as he gets up and shoots the offending creature. 

“The blood burns!” Donna yells. 

“Get it off and be careful!” Dean calls back. 

“Dean, she’s really hurt!” Sam shouts over a slimy growl from a fugly monster. There’s more shots as Dean tries to thin out the crowd between them. 

“Behind you!” Donna points. Dean spins and slams his elbow into its head, banging it into the wall. He kicks it away from him. 

“How did this even happen?” He hisses as he gets to her. The blood is burning her hand pretty badly. He rips the bottom of his jacket and tries wiping it from her skin while Sam covers them. It’s coming off, but his jacket piece is starting to disintegrate. 

“Wrong nest maybe?” She tears off part of her shirt and wraps her hand in it. 

“Careful, little sister,” he says to her as he moves past Sam to continue the fight. “How are there more? Do you think there’s an alpha here? Shoot the alpha, kill em all?” Sam nods and Dean takes off at a run to look for a head honcho of this fuckin’ nest. 

Dean runs through a doorway and finds an empty corner and reloads his gun before continuing through the dim hallways, peeking into doorways as he goes. He finds the room without a lot of difficulty. The worst part is the acidic smell. He coughs which alerts the alpha and all the smaller ones around it. He shoots one immediately which only makes them angrier. 

“Fuck.” He turns and starts running. He can’t go back the way he came because there are more coming in from there, probably alerted to the danger to their alpha. He shoots over his shoulder as he runs, satisfactory thumps landing behind him as he goes. “Fuck!” 

He shoots and no bullets come. He swears again and switches guns as he throws open the door at the end of the hallway. He runs back out into the main room where Sam and Donna are. Most of the other creatures are now spilling through after him. 

Dean turns and sees that the alpha and the horde have moved their attention to Sam and Donna. He aims for the head of one but Sam shoots first. Dean’s bullet buries itself in the stomach of the alpha. He feels it. He groans and stumbles backward, looking down. 

“Dean?”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your captain speaking... Brace for impact. Heavy angst and MCD warning. I love you all so much.

Dean is holding the equalizer. He forgot that Chuck had given it to them. He’d forgotten that it was in the glove box. He hadn’t even checked which gun he was grabbing when he was in the car. He drops the gun, his fingers no longer interested in holding on.

“Dean!” 

He presses a hand to his stomach. Blood is soaking through his clothes. Is it his? His hand is wet. And red. It drips down and Dean follows it, his knees buckling and giving way.

“Fuck! Dean, no!” Did Donna just swear? 

Dean blinks, trying to make the room come back into focus. He opens his mouth and watches more blood spill. “Cas…” he manages as he starts to fall backward. Arms grab him before his head hits the concrete. 

“Dean. Look at me. Open your eyes.” 

“Am I okay?” Dean asks as he opens his eyes. Donna is next to him, a bloody hand between her hands. Is that his? “I’m okay,” he says. It sounds far away and his mouth tastes bad. There’s a crash and a flash of light that Dean closes his eyes against. He feels numb. 

“Cas!” Sam yells.

“Cas…” Dean breathes. Why is breathing hard? He turns his face to the side and feels the blood drip. 

“Dean!” Suddenly, Cas is there. 

“You look like hammered crap,” Dean coughs. He winces at the pain and looks back up at Cas. His eyes are worried and filled with tears. Dean reaches up and caresses his cheek gently. His hand is shaking and covered in blood. 

“Dean. Love. No. Dean,” Cas stammers, a tear dripping onto Dean’s cheek. “I can’t heal you. I… I can’t. I don’t have enough grace, Dean. Dean, no.” 

“I need an ambulance,” Sam says. 

“I’m okay.” Cas shakes his head vigorously. “I’m okay. Yes. I am. I’m okay. I’ve had worse.” 

“Dean,” Cas begs. He turns his face to kiss Dean’s palm. 

“You’re safe,” Dean breathes. The edges of his vision is fuzzy. “Listen. Cas, listen to me.” He runs his thumb over Cas’ cheek. He feels safe and protected in his angel’s arms. “I love you. More than anything. I’m proud of us.” He blinks heavily. It occurs to him that he’s on the floor, pulled into Cas’ protective arms. Donna is crying. Sam is talking but it sounds far away and unimportant. His mouth tastes like pennies. “I want to go home.”

“Dean…” His voice fades and Dean’s vision darkens. He struggles to stay. He needs to hear what Cas is saying. He clings to the sound of Cas’ voice and blinks, trying to bring Cas back into focus. His mind wanders a little. To a date that never happened. A date where Cas is standing in a barn, his blue tie backwards as Dean kneels down on one knee and pulls the silver ring from his right hand to offer to Cas. The daydream flickers to a different barn on a different day, wings spanning the wall. He pulls himself back to the present and tries to focus on Cas’ beautiful blue eyes. 

“I was going to marry you,” Dean admits before he coughs. He feels nothing even though more blood pools in his mouth. “Shh, it’s okay,” Dean whispers.

“Stay awake, Dean,” Sam orders. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” He swallows hard, trying to rake in breaths. Cas kisses his fingertips tenderly. His hands are red. “Cas…” His eyes are bluer than ever. The oceans they hold are spilling over. Dean can hear every time Cas has ever said his name. He can see each time his gaze lingered just a little too long. He can see the determination, the power, love, and current loss as he looks into those blue skies of his eyes. 

“Dean,” Cas sobs. His lips press against Dean’s forehead. Another kiss is pressed just above his eyebrow. Dean smiles weakly, holding onto Cas as he closes his eyes. 

“...Cas…” 

Donna watches as the monsters retreat. They all run through the door that Dean had disappeared into no more than five minutes ago. She looks up at Sam. He shrugs, but his eyebrows are turned up in the middle. 

“Fuck!” Dean’s yell is loud. They step out of the way as a door bursts open and Dean runs through with a parade trailing after him. She had felt bad about calling him to help her. She had thought it was an easy case. In and out in one night. She’d needed backup. 

Dean turns around and raises his gun. There are two loud shots almost at once. Donna watches Dean stumble backward a few steps. Her heart slams in her chest. No. 

“Dean?” Sam yells. The monsters are all collapsing, their skin bubbling away as they melt into acidic puddles. Dean drops his gun. His shirt is turning red. “Dean!” Sam is running. Donna feels frozen as she watches Dean press a hand to his stomach. Blood is dripping rapidly from his shirt and now his hand is drenched too. 

“Fuck!” she screams as she watches him drop to his knees. “Dean, no!” She’s crying. He looks up at her and blinks slowly. Blood pours out of his mouth like in the movies. She didn’t think this kind of thing could happen in real life. Stillwater didn’t get many shootings. 

Sam catches Dean as he tips. “Cas…” Dean says through the blood. It sounds thick. His legs are bent at an awkward angle and his eyes are closed. If his chest wasn’t moving so rapidly, trying to pull in air, she wouldn’t know if he was alive or not. 

“Dean. Look at me. Open your eyes,” Sam says. His voice is steady, but there’s a note of panic. Donna grips Dean’s hand and lets out a sob. This is her fault. Dean is here because of her. She wants to scream.

“Am I okay?” Dean asks. His eyes don’t look focused. “I’m okay,” he decides even though he is very far from such a state. Donna looks down at his stomach and drops his hand long enough to pull off her jacket and ball it up to try to lessen the flow. When she presses it down, she expects Dean to cry out. He barely sucks in a breath, wincing just a little. That’s not good. 

The entire warehouse lights up with a flash and a thunderous boom that makes Donna jump. She and Sam both look up and see Cas. He staggers a few steps and grips the railing like there’s nothing left in him. 

“Dean. Wher— Dean!” Cas chokes. He moves to the stairs and stumbles down them, tripping over himself because he can’t move fast enough. 

“Cas!” Sam yells. “I don’t know what happened. I… Cas, I don’t know. I don’t think he’s got long. I need to call an ambulance.” 

“Cas…” Dean whispers. Cas is breathing hard, every few pulls hitching in his chest like he’s about to start crying. Cas kneels beside him and pulls him into his arms as Sam gets up. 

“Dean!” Cas runs a hand down Dean’s face. Donna looks up at Sam who is pacing on a short invisible line as he talks to the dispatcher. She reminds herself that she is why they’re here. She is why Dean is coughing up blood and looking vaguely confused as to how he ended up on the floor every time he opens his eyes. 

“You look like hammered crap.” Dean smiles like everything is fine now that Cas is holding him.  
“Dean. Love. No. Dean,” Cas stammers. He’s visibly shaking, his hands gripping at Dean’s jacket before moving to his face. “I can’t heal you. I… I can’t. I don’t have enough grace, Dean. Dean, no.”  
“I’m okay.” Cas shakes his head vigorously. “I’m okay. Yes. I am. I’m okay. I’ve had worse.” 

“Dean.” Cas’ voice breaks. He turns his face to kiss Dean’s palm. 

“You’re safe,” Dean breathes. “Listen. Cas, listen to me.” Cas nods, swallowing down his sobs so he can hear Dean. “I love you. More than anything. I’m proud of us.” His eyelids flutter before he blinks like he’s trying to wake up. “I want to go home…” 

Donna bites back a sob as she looks back down to him. His face is pale. His hand is still covered in his blood, but Cas doesn’t seem to notice or care as he kisses his fingertips with tears rolling down his cheeks.  
“Dean, stay with me. I’ve got you, but you need to stay with me, sweetie. Please. Dean, focus on me.”

“I was going to marry you,” Dean chokes. He coughs and his lips are newly wet with his blood. “Shh, it’s okay.” He’s comforting Cas as he dies. His hand is still covered in his blood, but Cas doesn’t seem to notice or care as he kisses his fingertips with tears rolling down his cheeks.  
“Sam?” Donna asks, looking up at him. She needs an ETA. She needs the ambulance to be here like now. She needs him to be okay. 

Sam stops pacing and looks at Dean. “Stay awake, Dean.” The only person not crying is Dean. Sam wipes his eyes on the heel of his hand as if it’ll keep him together long enough for the ambulance to get there. It’s not going to be here in time. He’s fading fast. Donna’s jacket is soaked through with his blood. Her hands are drenched. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” He swallows and sucks in a breath like he can’t actually breathe. Cas kisses his fingertips tenderly. His hands are red. “Cas…” 

“Dean,” Cas sobs. He kisses Dean’s forehead, rocking them slowly as he does. He kisses again and again, his chin shaking and eyes shut tight. His tears are streaming down his cheeks, dripping from his jaw onto Dean’s chest. 

The corners of Dean’s lips pull up just enough to hint at a smile. He’s holding onto Cas as he closes his eyes. “...Cas…” His hands relax and his head tips back. Cas screams. The sound fills the building and sinks into Donna’s bones. Sam drops the phone.

“DEAN!” 

“No. No, no, no, no. Dean!” 

Donna covers her face in her arms as she sobs. _ Careful, little sister. _ She feels Sam’s arms wrap around her protectively or seeking comfort, she doesn’t know. She turns into his chest and feels him start to weep, those full on gasping for breath sobs. His arms are tight around her. She holds onto him as hard as she can, balling his jacket into her fists. 

When Cas stands, Donna looks up. Dean is cradled in his arms, his head and legs hanging limp over Cas’ arms. His legs swing gently as Cas walks toward the store. Donna doesn’t want to see him like this, but she can’t look away from him. The room feels still, the silence around their cries pressing in and making Sam’s sobs louder. With his feet pointed down too far, Donna can see his socks between the top of his boot and the bottom of his jeans. The send noods socks she’d got him years ago. 

She’s barely aware of the fact that both she and Sam have gotten up and are following Cas out of the warehouse. Her mind feels slow, her heart too fast. This has to be a nightmare. This has to be fake. She’ll wake up and call Dean and he’ll answer to tell her that it was just a bad dream. Right? They’ll talk until this all fades to nothing and she’s left cracking up at some stupid joke while he makes coffee to be awake at this ungodly hour. Right? He’ll laugh and tell her he’ll see her soon. Her alarm will go off any minute to wake her up and she’ll text him her nightmare and he’ll text back something like, “that’s a new one,” and make a big joke out of the whole thing. She has to wake up because this can’t be real and he can’t be gone. 

_ “When you’re weary, feeling small… When tears are in your eyes, I’ll dry them all. I’m on your side, oh, when times get rough and friends can’t be found. _ ” The music makes everyone stop. Donna’s heart pounds and she backs up, covering her mouth as she lets out a wail. “ _ Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down. Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down.” _

Sam takes Dean’s phone from his pocket and shuts off the alarm. The screen says two things: Friendaversary w Donna and that it’s seven in the morning. 

_ “What the hell is a friendaversary? … No, I’ll be there.” _

_ “Don’t tell me you forgot our second friendaversary is coming up! We’re going to Cheese Curd Fest!” _

_ “I have about a hundred missed calls from someone named Donna. I think I might have a stalker. I’m sorry I missed our day.” _

Cas takes a few more steps before he falls, pulling Dean tight against his chest. “Come on,” Sam says roughly, helping Cas back up. She watches them walk toward the Impala. Dean’s car without a driver. 

“No!” Donna screams. Sam jumps and looks back at her but Cas keeps walking. “He can’t just be… We… I was goin’ to take him to Disneyland and… and… We… There’s… No. No!”

“Can you drive?” Sam asks. He looks wrecked and like he’s done this too many times. Donna doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know. She can barely see through her tears so probably not. “We need to get out of here before anyone shows up. I need you to drive. Okay?” She nods numbly. 

Cas is in the backseat of the car, Dean presumably laid across his lap. His cheek is smeared with blood and his eyes are looking down. Donna drags her eyes away from him and back up to Sam. 

“Follow you home and call Jody,” she repeats when he asks if she heard him. Donna thinks about hugging him, but he nods and takes a step away, turning back to Dean’s baby. Donna walks to her truck and watches her bloodied hands grip the wheel. She follows them closely and listens as sirens draw closer. 

“Call Jodes,” Donna says shakily. 

“Calling… _ Jodes _.” The phone starts ringing, mixing with the sirens. She has to keep going. She has to drive right now. 

“Hey, darlin’,” Jody says in her sleepy voice, her smile audible. Donna takes in a shaky breath. “Donna?” 

“I know you have work today but you need to meet me in Lebanon,” Donna says slowly, trying to keep her breathing even so the tears don’t take over too much. 

“What’s going on?” The smile is gone. 

“Dean…” She chokes and wipes her face with her wrist. She needs to wash her hands. She tries again. “Dean is dead.” She lets out a sob. Her best friend is gone. It’s her fault that her best friend is dead. 

Donna stares at the soapy water as it turns from pink to clear. When they’d arrived at the bunker Cas had carefully lifted Dean from the backseat and walked away without a word. Sam had watched them go before leading Donna into the bunker. Last time she had been here, she’d played Candyland. Dean had worn his pajamas all day and sang Sleeping Beauty with his boyfriend. 

She scrubs harder despite the burn from the acidic blood. She’ll bandage it again later. Her jacket is on the floor of an abandoned warehouse. She adds more soap and grinds her teeth as she tries to scrub the memory from her skin. 

“We have a problem,” she hears Sam saying. “Yeah, Jack isn’t taking this well.” No one is. “Yeah. Thanks. See you later, Mom.” He sighs and his footsteps move through the halls away from her. 

She turns off the water and dries her hands finally. Jody and the girls should be here soon. Sam had called some others. She has no idea how many people will be attending the funeral of Dean Winchester, but she knows that she’s not ready. 

She doesn’t even know how she’s still standing. She walks through the hallways, her finger trailing along the wall. It’s quiet. Her heart is breaking. She pushes open the door to the Dean Cave. It’s not the room of someone who thought yesterday was their last. The owner of this room had tomorrow planned. There’s a promise to fold the blanket that’s rumpled on the floor. A journal on the arm of the couch with a pen marking where he’d left off writing. An empty beer bottle on the minibar that was supposed to be recycled. 

_ “The Dean Cave!” _She can hear their laughter. Her shoulders shake and she sags against the doorway. 

Cas is notably missing from the wake. Jack is too, but Sam had told Donna that Mary had gone with him to make sure he was okay. Donna sits with Jody, their hands locked together tight. There’s a redhead with glitter around her eyes and in a dress more befitting a gala than a hunter’s funeral. She’s not crying, but her eyes are sad. Her hand is linked with Sam’s. That must be Rowena. 

There are stories being told by everyone but Donna can’t hear any of them. She doesn’t care about the third person telling the tale of how he crawled out of Hell. She doesn’t care about the time he saved them from one of the horsemen of the apocalypse. She couldn’t care less about when he killed Dick Roman. She remembers a different side. She remembers Dean on her doorstep, his arms open as he offered hugs and icecream. She remembers Dean laughing in the pool of a spa, pretending to be the wicked witch. She remembers when he confided in her before anyone else, a confession in the dark during a game of truth or dare. She remembers Dean. His laugh, his awful singing, his fast as heck driving. Dancing in the park, singing softly in the living room, serving coffee in the morning. 

“I only got seven years with him,” Donna whispers. Jody squeezes her hand. “I can’t do this.” She gets up and walks through the too many people who are all in a shocked state that Dean Winchester could possibly be dead. 

She makes her ways through the hallways that are off-limits to everyone else. Off-limits to non family members. But that doesn’t apply to her. _ “I’m her cousin, Dean.” “Mornin’, little sister.” “You got it, little sis.” “Careful, little sister.” _

_ “Just come back.” _

_ “I always do. Alright, bye sis.” _

Her heart stutters and she finds her way back to the room she had stayed in only a few months ago. She crawls onto the bed and pulls the pillow against her, sobbing into it as she curls up. She opens her phone and goes to the gallery. Dean and Donna, their faces covered in powdered sugar in a blanket fort. A picture Dean had sent to her of him with Cas in the car. A selfie Donna took of her hugging Dean, him pressing a kiss to the top of her head and raising a beer with his free arm. Dean catching her taking a photo of him while he’s talking, a tiny nail polish brush in his hands. Dean’s hand blocking the camera when she caught him crying during Inside Out. 

“My Dean,” she whispers, tears wetting her lips. “My best friend.” The door opens and Sam walks in with Jody and presumably Rowena. Jody positions herself next to Donna, wrapping her arms around her and pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder. 

“Mind the company?” Sam asks. Donna shakes her head and sits up a little, pulling her knees to her chest and leaning into Jody. “This is Rowena,” Sam says as he sits at the foot of the bed. It’s weird how a man so tall can seem so small. 

“I’m sorry, dearie,” she says in a thick and beautiful Scottish accent. She sits close to Sam, the space between their shoulders begging to be closed. Dean might have pushed them together. 

“I shouldn’t have called him,” Donna says softly, wiping at the fresh tears that are spilling over. 

“You absolutely should have,” Sam says with more power than she had expected. Rowena’s hand goes to his, her fingertips grazing the top of his hand before she takes it away again like she’s not used to comforting people. “It’s not your fault, Donna.”

“I remember when you boys came over for dinner,” Jody says with a sad smile. “Claire and Alex were fighting about boys, dating, sex… Dean nearly choked when I asked him to weigh in.”

“He was not ready for having birth control talks with two teenage girls,” Sam says, his lips unsure whether to smile or frown. He sniffs even though he’s not crying anymore. 

“I remember when he tried to kill me in that alley,” Rowena says with a soft look. “Bless him.” It makes Sam snort with a laugh he obviously wasn’t expecting. She nudges his shoulder with a small smile. “I do remember him playing with my hair. My wee Winchester lad.”

“I remember playin’ truth or dare with him durin’ our first sleepover,” Donna says quietly.

“I remember the first time I saw my brother after two years and he had the nerve to break into my apartment and kick my ass.” He exhales harshly. “And when he bought me a birthday cake when I was in high school and we ate the whole thing by ourselves for dinner and got sick. When he brought me to the ER when I jumped off the roof, convinced I could fly. When he…” Sam chokes and looks down. This time when Rowena touches his hand, he takes it and doesn’t let her go. 

“Where’s Cas?” Donna asks after a moment. 

“Up at their barn building the pyre. He didn’t want to be here,” Sam says. “We’ll send everyone away and go up alone later.” Donna nods and presses closer to Jody. 

The walk up the hill feels like the longest hike Donna’s ever done. Her body protests, knowing that at the end of this walk, she’ll have to say goodbye. Sam looks like he’s ready to lie down in the middle of the road they’re walking on, the only thing driving him forward is Rowena’s gentle leading. 

Claire is clutching a DVD copy of Caddyshack to her chest like her life depends on it and she’s actually letting Alex comfort her. They walk together with Alex’s arm around her shoulders. It’s nice to see this rarity even on the worst day. 

Donna looks up from her feet that she’d been focusing on for twenty steps when she hears Sam suck in a breath. In a somewhat hidden clearing near the barn is a pyre. Cas stands in front of it, unmoving. His coat is still stained with Dean’s blood and it flaps gently in the light breeze. On the pyre, a figure in white. Carefully tied with blue strands that Donna realizes are from Cas’ tie. 

The six of them stop beside Cas. Donna looks over at him. There are streaks through the blood smear on his cheek where the tears are running through. 

“Are we ready?” Sam asks. Cas swallows hard and closes his eyes, nodding. Donna turns to see Jody’s shocked expression. She hasn’t seen Cas today. No one but Sam and Donna have. What must he look like right now without the attached memories of him holding onto Dean as he bled out? 

Cas takes out a small silver lighter that Dean used to flip open with ease, the flame lighting on command. Cas opens it with trembling hands and takes three attempts before the flame appears. Dean’s silver ring is on Cas’ left hand, a quiet yes to a question he never got to ask. He makes a strange noise in the back of his throat and Sam grabs his shoulder. He drops the lighter and the gas carries the flames to the pyre. 

“He is the love of my life,” Cas says so softly it cracks Donna’s heart. “I knew he would die first. I just thought I’d have more time. Angels aren’t even supposed to be able to feel love. But all it took was raising him from perdition and I no longer belonged to Heaven. I can’t and won’t say goodbye to him.” Flames flicker in Cas’ eyes as he sets his jaw, his eyebrows turned up, lips quivering. 

“Best big brother someone could ever want,” Sam says quietly. “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve lost him. Something about this feels more final I guess. So uh… Thanks, Dean. For being my brother. For being a good friend. For giving this cold bastard feelings.” He squeezes Cas’ shoulder and Cas’ eyes slide shut. “Thanks for driving by Stanford every so often to check in on me even if I didn’t find out about it for fucking years.” His heart is in his throat. “Thank you for raising me and looking out for me always. I guess you get to rest now. I hope.” 

Donna reaches for Cas as her face crumples. He pulls her against him, his arms winding tighter than she’d expected. She’s grateful for it as they cry together. She still has a family here. Because of the bonds that Dean helped her make. 

  
  


_ When you're weary, feeling small _

_ When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all, all _

_ I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough _

_ And friends just can't be found _

_ Like a bridge over troubled water _

_ I will lay me down _

_ Like a bridge over troubled water _

_ I will lay me down _ _  
  
_

_ When you're down and out _

_ When you're on the street _

_ When evening falls so hard _

_ I will comfort you _

_ I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes _

_ And pain is all around _

_ Like a bridge over troubled water _

_ I will lay me down _

_ Like a bridge over troubled water _

_ I will lay me down _  
  


_ Sail on silver girl _

_ Sail on by _

_ Your time has come to shine _

_ All your dreams are on their way _

_ See how they shine _

_ Oh, if you need a friend _

_ I'm sailing right behind _

_ Like a bridge over troubled water _

_ I will ease your mind _

_ Like a bridge over troubled water _

_ I will ease your mind _

**The End**


End file.
